And the Meek Shall Inherit the Earth
by WarriorOfByzantium
Summary: Unconnected, drawn from different walks of life, five individuals have destinies entwined in the future of the world. Wolves abound among sheep, and the meek must struggle to survive the ruin of the 4th Era. Political strife, the return of dragons, and the fate of an Empire will forever change the lives of all.
1. The Meek

**Chapter One: The Meek**

* * *

A late summer wind swept the Imperial gardens, while a blanket of cloud loomed above. Tiny sprinkles of water scattered through the air, casting themselves upon trees, roofs, and people. Slowly and subtly, droplets of moisture began to drip from the ancient, white stonework of the Imperial City. Accompanied by the sound of distant thunder, it all blew softly through the ancient tombs and graveyards, down across the districts, and even to the far side of the Waterfront.

Due to these stormy conditions, few people were out and about; however, there was one person who could be found. Kneeling in the warm, damp soil of Imperial Gardens, he carefully cleaned off the decomposing leaves from a grave, cutting out the weeds and plant matter from various cracks. Softly, he folded his hands together and muttered an old prayer to Arkay, finishing with a _"…may they rest in peace."_

Peace they seemed to have. He was sure of it. For the greater part of the afternoon he'd been here, being paid a few septims to take care of the tombs. As of now, the drizzle was hardening, producing larger and wider drops. There was nothing left he could do here; So like a silhouette, he arose and moved away from the great tomb. It looked only slightly better now. There were still a lot of weeds growing in between the stone blocks, and the bottom was stained a deep, mossy green. The late summer rain would soon undo all his hard done work. Even now the tomb had a roof that looked ready to slide straight off; not something that could be easily repaired, or replaced for that matter.

Sniffing deeply, he began to feel the wetness of the rain. He lifted his crimson hood over his short sable hair, merely to keep the rain out of his green eyes. Despite the warmth in the weather, he wore a quilted vest over a fine white shirt. A swirling red cape was wrapped around him, along with black trousers and a set of riding boots. A long thin sword hung by his side, as was the fashion of many gentlefolk in Cyrodiil. Indeed, a gentleman he looked, for he was well-formed and muscular; a fine image of an Imperial nobleman. At first glance, one might think him a native, for he was tan and thinly shaped. Despite all this, there was something else in his deep, large eyes; something that set his nationality apart from the rest of the city. He was a Nord, a native of those far northern lands, a place that was shrouded in legend and mystery.

"Hold on there, Brekr… If you please." the mention of his own name caused the man to blink. Turning around, he saw before him, at a little distance, a rather chubby little man with red hair and a freckled face. Despite the cooling rain, sweat managed to drip down the man's brow in vast amounts. Brekr watched as he pulled out his handkerchief, "I... I've been searching... the entire city for you..."

"Now Antoni… how many times have said that... I've lost count" he answered indifferently, turning back around, "Anyway, I thought it was my day off… or did I make another mistake?" Antoni panted, wiping his brow with extreme care, "Trust me Brekr… you'll want in on this one. It's a very exciting case by the looks of it. Madame Dra'bhi has asked me to bring everyone in… even you. Gods know why."

"Does she? In that case I'll be right along. Though I don't really feel up to it right now" He felt distant and faraway, and acted as such.

"Well…" Antoni said, a casual but urgent tone in his voice "I wouldn't worry about it too much about it. If anything, I think you should be excited"

"Mhmm." Brekr smothered a slight yawn, "I'm coming then… looks like we're in for some rain anyways"

"Yes, and I have to bring you back with me right." Antoni boomed, wiping his forehead again, "The entire meeting is waiting on you. You must absolutely come at once." Brekr stopped. All introverted and distant feelings were gone in an instant. He gazed back at Antoni shamefaced, "The entire meeting?… you mean they've been waiting on me this whole time?"

" _Yes_!" Antoni nodded, "That's why we need to skedaddle lad!"

"Oh…" Brekr felt himself dragged back to reality, "Of course… come on then." He shook his head and pushed towards the gate with Antoni in tow. Infuriating the Madame would have been a death sentence for anyone's career, and to get through this world successfully, he needed friends in high places. Everyone needed friends in high places. They were the ones that really mattered.

Or... as a young girl believed, it was the friends in low places that mattered most At the other end of the city, Kayte, or Kayti as her friends knew her, was making her own way through life. 16 years old and strong, she hurried down the wet cobblestone streets. Expressive hazel eyes, so delicately set within their sockets, glanced about nervously. She was only a small creature, a little over 5.2 in height and stature, simply clad in an old leather travel outfit. As she hurried through the rain, so did the sky continue to darken

"aHHH—ka _CHOO_!" she sneezed, blowing her nose completely clear. She groaned and rubbed it tenderly. It had only been raining half an hour after all, and she was already soaked through. Things had turned wet fast.

"Afternoon Miss." a sudden voice caused her to jump, "Oh… oh Gods." she breathed heavily, "Please don't scare me like that."

"Oh… terribly sorry mis." A bearded gent stood opposite of her, rising like a tall tree. He performed a low bow and moved past, nearly crushing her into the wall by accident. It was fortunate however, for as he slipped past her, so did Kayte slip something from him

 _"A coin purse."_ She smiled, stuffing it into a hidden pocket. By the time the man noticed, it would be too late. Things were looking up it seemed. The money would fetch her a nice room at the inn, and she could get out of this ghastly, wet weather.

So she moved on, feeling another sneeze rise in her nose. No one noticed her. Nobody cared. But meanwhile, far to the North, even across the woods of Cyrodiil and the mighty Jerrall Mountains, a man named Faeorn had more attention than he ever desired. Standing amongst a crowd of cheering fans, he had to admit something to himself; He was hopelessly drunk. Even now his vision was blurred, the colors danced around him vividly. Out of this mystical and contrasted vividness, a fist flew swiftly at him, striking him square in the lower jaw. He staggered backwards, his groggy mind drifting back to the argument he'd been having earlier; something about the price of war-hammers.

"Well we'll settle it the Nord way" Borin had proudly proclaimed. Little did Faeorn know, that the Nord way consisted of several tankards of the Black Briar Mead, and then a drunken brawl.

"Come… on… Faeeeeorn…" another equally drunk voice blabbered at him. Faeorn took a swing at the blurry figure in front of him, landing it in the muscular abs of Borin, who let out a congested yelp, "Ooof… Aww… Now that's…. mooore… likeit…"

"Defen yahself…." Faeorn cocked his head. The man tried to throw a heavy punch, but ended up body-slamming him, which in turn sent them both to the ground. Borin, who was rather heavy set, landed on top Faeorn, completely knocking the wind out of him."

Gerroff me!" he wheezed, slapping Borin repeatedly in the face,

"Nevah! I… got you now.." Borin slurred, his eyes rolling lazily in their sockets, "And dere's nothin… you can do boutit…

"Oh yah?" Faeorn cried, squirming desperately in an attempt to get out from under the huge Nord, who just laughed at his pathetic attempts, "Oh! How deare you I never asked for dis! Gerroff me!" Suddenly, he felt the pressure relieved as the giant Nord was yanked off of him, allowing him to breath again.

"Break this up! Both of you!" a third voice shouted, sounding significantly more sober than anyone else. Faeorn felt himself get lifted up, kindly escorted to the door, and promptly cast out into the streets of Whiterun.

 _"How dare they?!"_ He couldn't belief the pure audacity. The rain was coming down in moderate amounts, soaking him through in no time.. Slowly, he groaned and got up on his feet, his legs feeling like great logs, "How…. dear you!" he shouted in general direction of the in. Despite being in the late afternoon, few people were about on this rainy day. Seeing no reason to daudle about, he began to move his own drunken body. Something impacted his left foot in a very short time, sending him to the ground. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't find the strength lift himself up. He was completely immobilized

He lay there for hours, or what seemed like hours, until he felt finally felt someone touch his shoulder. He felt warmth...warmth that radiated through his shirt like rays of the sun. Somehow, it gave him the strength grovel around and look up. Above him stood a blur of a figure... completely unrecognizable.

"You are _not_ alright sir..." the voice was feminine. Faeorn blew a raspberry and threw his head in a hilariously exaggerated nod. "Yup!" he grinned stupidly... "I mean uh… no... I'm fine dear, blurry lady."

"Well what's wrong with your voice then, eh?"

"Um… nothing… There's wrong with my voice I feel fine with my voice… my voice feels fine with me! Why wouldn't we be?" Faeorn tapped his nose loudly, amused by his own words. "La! I'm rhymed… how great is that?"

"You are drunk as a doornail!" the blur concluded, an unreadable expression on her face, "And the Bannered Mare threw you out then."

"YES!" Faeorn shouted, "The turds... the absolute turds!" He shook his head in an exaggerated motion, "I wish I… I wish I could… fix em' good!" Faeorn burst out laughing, slapping his knee twice with joy "I rhymed I'm rhymed! I always wanted to rhymed!"

"Yeeaah…" she slurred, looking around for a guard "So I'll find someone to help ye' then."

"No no!" Faeorn shouted, reaching out for her hand, "Don't go…"

"I'll be gone just a' moment." the woman reassured him, "Be right back." She spun around on her heel and left before he could respond, returning just a moment later. Faeorn noticed a second blur following her.

"Oh… a drunk then." the second blur announced. The woman merely nodded, "Yeah, he's hopelessly intoxi—"

"I am nay drunk!" Faeorn croaked, trying to control himself, "I am… _HuP!_... perfectly fine…"

"Nah... you ain't." the other voice boomed. It was thoroughly masculine, "Well we can't just leave him on the streets. Someone might uh... trip... you know, over his body." he ended with a little chuckle. Faeorn thought about the problem, his slurred reasoning deciding to agree with the blurs. Maybe a little rest would do him good after all. For no apparent reason, he began to nod. As the guard picked him up, he nodded; as he was taken out of the market place, he nodded; as he was dumped in prison, he nodded.

* * *

Kayte swiftly crossed the alleyway, taking some refuge in a small cove in the wall. The sky was getting dark fast... faster than she thought it would. She rubbed her hands together, ready to reach into her newfound coin-purse.

A loud burst of thunder interrupted any thoughts. She froze a moment, ready to relax when she heard a pair of voices, talking energetically despite the heavy rain.

 _"Wonder who'd be out in this weather?"_ Kayte thought, feeling another sneeze rise in her nose. Out of pure curiosity, she poked her head out, glancing in the direction of the voices.

 _"Why of all the crazy?"_ she saw two men; one was laughing heartily, while the other remained rather fixated and grave.

"As I was sayin' Brekr" she heard one say. Another boom of thunder interrupted any further sound of voices. She saw them step in through the next door."

"Well I hope they're comfortable." Kayte muttered, shivering a bit. It was still warm enough to be relatively comfortable outside. "It's not like I'm cold and wet… and… _Ahhh_ —" she stopped herself, pinching her nose, "sick…"

Inside, Brekr felt good in the warm glow of the fire. He always loved this time of year, for it was warm and wet enough to be pleasant outside, but still exceedingly cozy indoors. The pitter-patter of the rain, along with a quaint game of cards would make anyone's day. Brekr smiled at the very thought, hearing the sound of the door as Antoni entered behind him.

"Come on!' Brekr heard him say, as he allowed himself to be led up a set of stairs. The room upstairs was crowded with a dozen or so couriers. They were all talking excitedly to each other, making it sound like a band of chipmunks fretting over some nuts. Brekr made his way to his favorite seat near the two most prestigious writers. The first of these was Hieronix, an anxious looking Imperial with ruddy skin and almond shaped eyes. The other was Irervi, a retarded looking dark elf who had somehow gotten a free ticket out of Morrowind. Unmanageable black hair flowed over the firm, blocky expression that was his face.

Finally, Madame Dra'bhi was seated royally in the back. She was an elderly kahjiit, with short, grayish fur and lively brown eyes. Her great grandmother's grandfather had been one of the founders of the Courier, some 200 years before. She herself had saved the business on more than one occasion; but now she was old and rarely involved in the gazette, except when important cases arose. The old Kahjiit rose her slender hand to signal silence. She cleared her throat and spoke in a serious voice, "Sit down Brekr... Antoni" She motioned to the chair by the table, which Brekr promptly took. Antoni sat down at his desk in the corner of the room.

"Good afternoon." Madame Dra'bhi said formally, taking some papers in hand, "Thank you all for coming here. I know for some of you, it was your day off." she spoke in a pure, natural Imperial accent, dispensing with the usual third person, something extremely common in her race.

"Well it was important." she continued, with a tone of age and honed wisdom "We have a lot to cover, but let's start with the preliminaries. Tomorrow we'll need coverage of the Emperor's speech. Hieronix, you're the man on the job."

"Will do." Hieronix proclaimed with firm resolution.

"Quintus." Madame continued, "A woman in Bravil has apparently turned herself into a pigeon. That seems like your kind of case."

"Indeedy..." Quintus squealed like a little piglet. He spun around on his stool with joy. Madame continued handing out cases to the other journalists. With each appointment, Brekr felt his own smile droop, until it was upside-down. Was there nothing for him... again? Soon everyone with their appointments, save him.

This was going to be a long day... a very long day.

* * *

"What's he doing?" A Bosmer was crouched behind a stack of boxes, shivering fervently due to the heavy rain. Her name was Giinthil, and she was refugee from the north Vallenwood area. Her partner, a stouthearted Imperial with a lively attitude, was busy keeping watch over the boxes. He didn't seem to hear her, so Giinthil asked again.

"Psst…!" she whispered, almost out loud for all the sound she made, "What's the man doing?!"

"Nothing…" her comrade replied, "He's just digging through some old boxes… and chests… and now barrels… and um… is that a sac—"

"Yes I understand Corvus." she interrupted him, trying to shield her face from the deluge pouring above her, "Just keep watching him." She could feel the chilled redness radiating from her own cheeks. It was unusually cold, even for a rainy, late-summer day like this one, and to think their suspect was merely digging through old crates was infuriating. She wanted to take a look of her own, but stern caution warned her against such action. This observation point was perfect… at least when the clouds weren't overhead, and the last thing she should now was spoil it by acting too soon.

"It sort of makes you wonder." Corvus whispered, completely unbothered by the rain, "Why a man would go digging in those old crates, just to pick out some rusty old spoons and moldy bread."

"People are odd." Giinthil replied, "That doesn't matter anyway… We're just here to keep an eye on him. Let me know if he takes a _single_ item from those boxes"

"Sure thing Giin…" Corvus replied, a small smile plastered on his face, "I could use a little _g_ — Wait a minute! He's pulled out a sack…" Corvus burst out ecstatically, throwing a glance back at the Bosmer, "A large bag." he proclaimed, looking back at their suspect with renewed zeal. He winced his eyes twice in an attempt to get a better view, "He's just taking everything… forks, seeds, apples, hammers; everything's going into the bag."

"Wha-What?" Giinthil asked, half muttering to herself. Unable to resist the tension anymore, she leaped up beside her comrade, fixing her own eyed on the man in the marketplace.

"By my ears!" she shouted, "He _is_ just taking everything." By now the man had produced a sizable sack full of oddities. Taking a quick glance around him, he threw it over his shoulder and darted down a narrow passage.

"Quickly, after him!" Giinthil shouted, jumping over the crates that had once concealed them. Corvus leaped after her, hurrying in pursuit of the rather clumsy thief. It took them only a moment longer to reach the market place. Giinthil just saw a glimpse of a sack as she reached the alley. Corvus also saw it and dashed after him, turning the corner and likewise vanishing. Giinthil hurried after the two of them, but the heavy rain delayed her progress. She turned the corner to find Corvus lying flat on his back, and the thief nowhere to be found.

"Corvus!" she shouted, completely surprised. She knelt down beside him, and slapped his face gently. Corvus groaned a moment, then opened one eye, glancing at her a moment before closing it, "Ow…." he moaned sullenly, "All I saw was a large sack flying towards my face. I think my...oh... I think my nose is broken."

"No it isn't…" Giinthil said without any real knowledge. She hesitantly felt the end of his nose with her own finger, wincing just a bit, "But it's a deep shade of red… nasty bruise."

"Giin…."Corvus groaned, making no effort to get up, "Shouldn't you be pursuing him or something?" Giinthil… or "Giin" as she was often called, merely shook her head, "He's gone… I don't know how, but he just disappeared."

They both sat there a moment, and breathed... just breathed.

* * *

Nearby, Brekr felt himself slip, and slip, and then nearly fall off his chair, "Ooaah!" he roared, feeling his rump loose traction. He quickly placed himself back on his seat. The bitter-sweet taste of saliva in his mouth helped him discern his fate; he'd fallen asleep.

Around him, fellow journalists and couriers were busy helping themselves to drinks and refreshments, all the while discussing their new assignments. Brekr felt like black goat amongst white sheep. He couldn't understand how he'd been so forgotten. Of course he wasn't the best, but he certainly wasn't the worst.

"Brekr." he felt a grayish paw on his shoulder, which revealed itself to belong to Madame Dra'bhi "Didn't you grab something to eat? It's cold and raining outside."

"Oh... um no... I mean yes." Brekr tried to raise a hand up to wipe the sleep from his face. Madame smiled inscrutably, "Come to my office. Antoni and I have something special for you." She spun around and beelined for the door, motioning for him to follow. Brekr got up, nearly collapsing on his exhausted legs, "Ghfff." he moaned, not disturbing anyone else from their talk. The slow mind of recent sleep guided him after her, past the many tables and chairs that had seemed to spring up. Antoni was waiting for them in Madame's office, seated at a tiny chair in the corner.

"Ah... there you are." he chimed as they entered, "Madame said we have a busy week. A believe me, yours will be the busiest."

"Uh..." Brekr stopped and slapped the slow mind of recent sleep, trying to jolt it awake. He shook his head twice, and then looked back at his employers. He noticed some rather peculiar expressions written on their faces, eager, yet completely veiled.

"Well um..." Antoni took a pinch of snuff, "Do you want to hear about it?"

"Well I um... yeah."

"You're going northwards Brekr." Madame began. She took a seat at her table, "Your job is most exciting. Trust me, I envy you" She purred slowly, "It is however, quite complicated. As you may have heard, in Skyrim, Hall of the Vigilants has been burned to the ground, along with many the order's leading members." She stopped a moment, letting it sink it, "Now, I know it seems dreary, to investigate a freak burning. But, my dear lad, word is vampires are involved. If so, this could be a tremendous sell. I need not remind you that the Empire cut our funding. We rely on hard work and ingenuity"

"I..." Brekr's mind was beginning to come back. He shook his head slowly

"We want you to investigate this." Madame replied with wolfish radiance, "But there's more. You, my dear lad, will have complete freedom of bounds, in order to pursue every lead you see fit. You'll be able to go anywhere, and do anything that you please, though you yourself will suffer any consequences." her eyes gleamed as she spoke, "Don't get me wrong; we'll pay you well, twice your normal salary. The longer you keep getting us news, the longer your incredible freedom will last. And who knows, if you do well we might put you on other such cases."

"I..." Brekr was dumbfounded. Slowly, he felt his internal shock turn to joy. This kind of freedom was truly alluring, even if it only was temporary.

"What do you say?" Antoni grinned, as wolfish as the Madame, "Shall you be our cloak of darkness, and we your enchanted sword."

"I say..." Brekr started, "I say yes." His legs were shaking. Brekr thought he'd better stand up without hesitation, "Of course I say yes. I would relish the opportunity t-"

"Of course you would." Antoni interrupted, "It's every journalist's dream, to be given a region to wander, to travel, to discover its inhabitants' secrets."

Brekr gleamed, looking at the energetic faces before him, "I don't know what to say... when should I leave." No one answered. Madame simply rose from her chair, walking over to the window. The rain was still pouring outside, much heavier than before. She folded her hands together, speaking softly, "Whenever you like Brekr. I would suggest you wait for the Emperor's speech tomorrow... but the choice is up to you."

"Thanks er... I mean, thank you Madame."

Madame Dra'bhi smiled, turning around on her heel, "Your welcome, and you may go Brekr. Antoni, give him an advance on his new salary. I would recommend the Merchants Inn; quiet, affordable, and very comfortable."

"Thank you again Madame." He turned to leave, nearly bumping into Antoni, who swiftly handed him his pay. Brekr left.

Antoni sighed, seating himself back at his table. He felt terribly crestfallen, "Do you really think he's ready?"

"Oh yes." Madame spoke again, "He's ready. I'm sure of it."

* * *

The rain was heavy as Giinthil trotted back towards the barracks, feeling cold, wet, and all weird inside. It was so dark that it might as well have been evening. As she went along, she barely noticed the small frame of a woman slip past her.

"Oi..." she raised her head, turning around sharply, "You!" The younger woman stopped in her tracks, turning around slowly. Her bright blonde curls were draped against her face, wet from the rainstorm.

"Kayte..." Giinthil gave her a once over, "What are you doing out here?

"Oh come on Giin." Kayte pulled her black cloak tighter around herself, "I _am_ just trying to keep out of the rain... no trouble, promise."

"Hmm... well alright, but I'm warning you Kayti." Giinthil drilled her eyes into her, "I may be your friend, but I'm still a guardswoman. If you're up to somethin—"

"Yes of course, I understand. You have a job to do, and nothing else matters."

She could hardly believe it. Already short on temper, Giinthil firmly pressed both her hands against her hips, "I'm not having this debate, Kayte. Not now."

"Oh come on, Gin!" Kayte rolled her eyes, shaking her head, "How long are you going to hide behind that uniform? It doesn't even look good on you!" She shook her head and turned away, all the while muttering more words beneath her breath. Giinthil sighed, looking back at her friend. Turning around, she continued heading for the barracks, hoping to get there soon

Afternoon disappeared, and nightfall rolled in.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews and advice are greatly appreciated. This is going to be a bit of a mix between Oblivion & Skyrim. Updates will unfortunately be slower than I'd like ;(.**


	2. Pax Imperialis

_It's the strangest thing. Yesterday, it was hard, today, it is easy. Just a good night's sleep, and yesterday's mysteries are today's masteries. ~Hero of Kvatch~_

 **Chapter 2: Pax Imperialis**

* * *

The bright dawn of a new day was shadowed by dark rainclouds. The droplets threw themselves against the windows of the palace, slowly dripping down in long, thin rivers. Head held high, hands behind his back, Emperor Titus Mede II fixed his eyes outside, deep in thought. Gazing out over his domain, he thought The Imperial City looked peaceful, if not angelic.

"Good morning sire." a ruddy looking stooge slowly sauntered into the finely furnished bedroom, "Breakfast is almost ready! Shall I prepare you anything extra for the day's toils?"

"Yes, a strong cup of tea." The Emperor replied, continuing to stare outside. He made almost no body motion, barely recognizing the servant.

"It shall be so, sire." the man responded, "Also, Chancellor Arterius has requested to speak with you." The Emperor stopped at the mention of the name, spinning around on his heel, "Arterius, why?"

"I know not sire." the stooge answered with all frankness, "Save his lordship seemed quite distraught."

"Well I shall see him immediately." The Emperor rushed to the door, scratching his left hand with his right. He spoke quickly to a guard who met him, "Captain Li, if Chancellor Arterius wishes to see me, send him up immediately." The captain performed a profound bow before he left, making sure not to run down the long staircase. The Emperor walked back to the window, closing his eyes with a sigh. Truly, his reign had been far from easy, and he didn't expect it to start now.

"You may go…" He told the stooge, "But ask the cook to hold off on breakfast, until my meeting with Chancellor Arterius is complete."

"As you wish, sire." The hapless stooge waddled out the way he came. Captain Li promptly returned with four men in tow, "Your Majesty, his Lordship Chancellor Arterius, Councilor Palidin, Councilor Braevius, and Commander Tyer, recently returned from Morrowind.

"Your majesty." they bowed in unison. Arterius was older, and light of skin, despite his Imperial blood. The commander was slightly younger, having streaks of gray hair mixed with a charcoal black. A long, jagged scar crossed his cheek, distinguishing him from other men in the room.

"Please sit," Emperor Titus felt his heart nearly beat out of his chest. No matter how many years he'd reigned, nothing could calm the foreboding feeling he always had before a meeting like this. His worst had been right before the War with the Aldmeri Dominion, 20 years prior. He was younger then, and more energetic when dealing with problems. Nowadays, he usually tried to pass it on to one of his capable advisors, unless it was something that specifically required his attention.

The clicking of locks on the only door made everyone feel a little better. Chancellor Arterius was sweating profusely, while Commander Tyer seemed calm and calculating. The latter folded his hands together and admired the furnishing. The other two men looked worried. After taking in all the faces, the Emperor leaned back in his chair, ready to be hit by it, "What news do you have for me?

"Y—your majesty." Arterius fumbled, "I'm afraid I… I must report some terrible news." The Emperor closed his eyes, braced for whatever came next.

"If you recall your highness, Councilor Palidin, a most worthy choice, recently replaced Councilor Braevius as Grand Chambrier. Yesterday, he began his work by examining our royal coffers. I'm afraid he… he discovered that over six-hundred thousand septims were unaccounted for…"

Emperor Titus Mede felt his heart stop. It was as if he was a hundred years older. Rising from his seat, he pressed his fingers into the table, and spoke quietly, "What did you say?!"

"I don't know how this happened sire…" Councilor Palidin added, desperate to support his position, "It was gone when I took over. I'm afraid it… it must have happened under Braevius."

"That's not true!" Braevius retorted. He clenched his fists and glared at everyone, "Everything was in perfect order when I left. I swear it!"

"Would you please keep your head screwed on, sir." Arterius chided. He turned back to the Emperor, looking incredibly nervous, "Now sire, I only found out this morni—."

"I don't want to here it!" Emperor Titus burst out in a blast of interruption. He rarely yelled, but today he would make an exception. Slowly his voice came down again, "Councilor Braevius… whatever happened was your responsibility… and you shall be held accountable." the councilor drooped his head, meekly accepting his fate. The Emperor sat back in his seat and folded his hands, requiring a moment to make a decision. Slowly his eyes drifted to the young Commander from Morrowind.

"What about you, Commander Tyer." he started, "How did you become involved in all this?"

"I was merely present when Chancellor Arterius discovered this… terrible news." Tyer responded with a small amount of mockery in his voice. He didn't seem the least bit concerned with what was going on.

"I didn't want word of this getting out." Arterius added, "So I brought Commander Tyer up with me."

"That was a good idea. Not a word of this to anyone. For now, see how many septims you can take from our assets. The missing money must be replaced." Emperor Titus finished with a depressed sigh. The pitter-patter of the rain continued to beat rhythmically against the windows. At least he had some comfort; If the rain didn't let up, he could cancel his speech this morning. Subconsciously, he started tapping his fingers against the table, before turning his attention to the other men, "You may leave gentlemen."

"As you wish, your majesty." Arterius rose and gave a low bow. The other three men did likewise, except the commander, who only gave a small nod with his head. The four of them left the way they came, eager to be out of the room. Emperor Titus rose from his seat, trailing back towards the window. He was a man who'd truly been crushed by the crown. Every day that went by, every step he took, his strength wavered.

* * *

Brekr found himself unable to move. He pushed his arms out, trying to free himself from whatever force was holding him. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he realized the full extent of his predicament. During the night, he'd somehow pulled all the blankets around himself, forming a sort of wrap. It was so tightly bound, that he even found it difficult to even move.

It didn't take him long to get his bearings however. A little bit of coordinated movement, and he unraveled the blankets surrounding him, until he was finally free from its warm embrace." It was a bright day outside, despite the steady rain pouring down. Slowly he rose to feet, and walked over to the window, just as a knock sounded on his door.

"Come in." he answered, leaned back against the window. The timing seemed strangely fortunate.

The door opened to reveal a scrawny little man with a fat nose, holding a platter of steaming food in his hand.

"Curtesy of the Merchant's Inn…" he smiled, "In honor of the Emperor's speech to noble Imperial City." It sounded rehearsed. The scrawny man placed the steaming meal on a small table near Brekr's bed, taking a low bow before he left, "Enjoy."

"Er… thanks." Brekr muttered, closing the door behind him. He sat down at his meal, gazing out the window as he began to eat. It was very wet outside, and he took a small amount of joy in just watching the rain, without the discomfort of actually being there. It was a unique experience really, seeing but not touching.

Next to his food, he saw a small pamphlet. He picked it up with his left hand, opening with certain hum.

 _Emperor Titus Mede to speak to the people of Cyrodiil. The road ahead is bright._

He set it down on his lap, thinking the words over in his mind. The last phrase seemed a bit ironic, considering the massive rainstorm brewing around them. Truly, the situation in the empire was in flux. The thought of the Emperor's speech was strangely comforting, even if it was mostly politics.

"No matter…" he muttered, setting the pamphlet back on the table. He was able to finish his food in a reasonable timeframe, despite the shouting that soon started from the room below. The sound slowly increased in intensity, until it was nearly unbearable. Then, it became quiet very fast. Someone must have said something.

Still, his new contract wouldn't do itself. After his breakfast, he went to the closet and grabbed one of his white shirts, brown trousers, and a red vest that matched his cloak. He grabbed his sword from the corner and strapped in around his waist, checking himself out in the mirror before leaving.

 _"How did l get here?"_ he gazed at his reflection, partly admiring himself. The whole situation seemed so surreal to him. Even the Emperor's speech now seemed minuscule compared to the vast adventure that surely awaited him in Skyrim.

 _"This'll be the start of a whole new life… a better one."_ he started down the stairs, humming softly to himself. Without any hesitation, he burst outside into the cold rain, feeling the rush of air on his skin. Everywhere he saw people hurrying down the roads and paths to get out of it all. They were just people, ordinary people, who's only desire was to get on with their lives. It was these same people who constantly forgot an important fact; that they lived in the most ancient city in all of Cyrodiil.

Indeed, thousands of years the city had stood, with its white, stone walls sprawling out across the island, and the gleaming White-Gold Tower shining from its center. Brekr felt proud to be apart of it all. As he passed through the temple district, he saw the Avatar of Akatosh standing from the ruined Temple of the One. It was here, that on the final day of the Oblivion Crisis, that the last of the Septim emperors sacrificed his life to "close shut the jaws of Oblivion." Now a stone dragon stood there, rising out of the deteriorated temple as a testament to the city's proud heritage. Strangely enough, it showed no sign of decay or weathering; or if it did, it was so small that no one had noticed it.

* * *

 _"This'll be the start of a whole new life… a better one."_ Kayte's heels clicked against the cold stone as she neared the gate. It always felt strange, passing through doors that were so large. At least this one had only a few people around it, as it led to slums, known elsewhere as the Waterfront. The scent of plant life filled her lungs as she exited. It felt cool and fresh.

"Morning Kayte…" A strange but familiar voice whispered in her ear, "Follow me, but keep your distance." A slender form slipped past her and silently walked down the alleyway. Kayte followed, nervous anticipation gnawing away at her. It seemed like forever, but they eventually arrived at a secluded little cove in the buildings. The woman opened a door and allowed her to enter first."

"Sorry about that…" the woman had an accent of the streets, much like Kayte's, "Even though we're a myth… eyes are everywhere."

"That's alright Cecilia." Kayte replied, rubbing her cold cheeks with her equally cold hands, "Has your contact considered my application to the guild?"

"Well…" Cecilia answered, seating herself on a small stool,"I've vouched for you. But there's something else. Before they grant you an audience, they want to see something that shows your commitment."

"What kind of 'something?'" Kayte warily asked, trying to hide the tone of alarm in her voice. Cecilia shrugged her shoulders a bit, "Just something that has decent worth. You're smart… it shouldn't be that hard."

Kayte furrowed her youthful brow. She felt subtly betrayed by her friend, "That's not… exactly what I was hoping for."

Caecila came over and placed her hand on Kayte's shoulder, "I wouldn't worry. You've come this far… this is just a final obstacle." she smiled fondly at the girl, cocking her head to one side in a purely feminine way, "Well I've already been here too long. Come on… time to go." she opened the door before Kayte had a chance to speak, letting a shower of rainwater fill the room."

"Alright then…" Kayte finally got a word out as she emerged outside, "You get going before some guards see us together." she said with summoned energy.

"And now you're giving the orders." Cecilia laughed, "You'll do just fine girl." She smirked, turning away from her like a cat on soft paws. Kayte saw her dark form disappear behind a low lying wall. The sun was smiling behind the rainclouds, trying to push past the darkness and illuminate the earth with its radiance. From the corner of her eye, Kayte spied two guardsmen making their way down the opposite side of the stiff, cold street.

 _"Giinthil"_ The thought rattled her brain. Neither of the two guards seemed to notice her, but she took cover nonetheless. Giin would sense something was up if she saw her here. So it would be far better for everyone concerned, if she just pulled herself out of the street. She waited a good long while for them to pass, carefully peeping her head out a few minutes later.

"Too close." She pulled herself back into the street, glancing down in both directions. Despite herself, she noticed her heart was racing, and even her hands were trembling. _"Why?"_ she wondered. Why was she doing this? Was she simply afraid of her finding out, finding out about her and the guild? The simple conclusion was there, but she willfully blinded herself to it. Truly, if nothing else, she was terrified of Giinthil finding the truth.

Her worries plagued her as she walked down the street. The rain was starting to show signs of letting up, though it continued to drench the city. There was also her problem to think of. Where would Kayte get something valuable enough to please the Thieves Guild? She would need time to think. For now, it would be best to make her way to the Elven Gardens district, and wait for the Emperor's speech.

* * *

Corvus and Giinthil walked silently through the waterfront. No one would admit it, but they were both on punishment detail after yesterday's escapade. As if to mark the occasion, the caked dirt of the waterfront had combined itself with rainwater, until it formed a nasty mud that splashed over their uniforms as they walked.

"They really should do something about this." Corvus complained, "I mean, these slums have existed as long as the city. You'd think things would have improved a bit in the last thousand years."

"True…" Giin admitted, "But then again, some things never change."

"I don't know how you can talk like that." Corvus walked at a steady pace despite the mud, "I think it's up to people like you and me to make things better."

"A noble thought…" Giinthil replied, "At least a catwalk would be nice."

"Or an actual road." Corvus mused.

"Honestly though, I think they have more urgent matters to attend to."

"Riiiggghhtt…" Corvus answered with a gloomy sigh, one annoyed by rain and environment, "At least they get to put on their _damn_ speeches while our economy is rotting. But hey, people do what they please right."

"I didn't know you felt so strongly about this." Giin exclaimed, looking down at her feet. Corvus pressed on beside her, a sad grimace on his face, "Yup… I hate politics… especially our own."

"I guess I don't blame you" she answered, "The road to disaster is made by politicians." the note seemed to strike a positive chord. Corvus chuckled a bit and shook his head, "Too right girl. Sooner or later, we'll have to clean their boots for them."

"Don't know if I like the idea of cleaning someone's boot." Giinthil was glad she'd been able to lighten the mood. The rain finally seemed to be lightening up. They didn't even have to use their cloaks anymore, though comfort required it. Down the road, they saw two "clean" guards strolling towards them.

"Morning… we're here to relieve you." one spoke with simple directness, "You'll be covered until after the Emperor's speech, at which point you'll be expected to report back to the barracks."

"Will do, sir." Corvus answered for the both of them. The two guards nodded despondently and moved on, taking their route through the Waterfront. Corvus fixed a deadpan expression at the gate and began marching. Giinthil dragged herself behind him, "Shall I see you at the speech?

"No." he answered stolidly, "I just need some rest. I'll see you at the barracks after the speech." he strolled off towards said barracks, looking extremely tired.

* * *

People of all classes gathered to hear Emperor's speech. Everyone in the Imperial City was present, from noblemen to peasants to merchants and shopkeepers. This anxiety was the image of Cyrodiil since the Great War. Masked among the concerned faces was a young journalist, a guardswoman, and a breton thief of sixteen years. For Brekr, it was a point of anxious anticipation, waiting for the moment when the Emperor would reveal himself on the makeshift spokesman balcony. Giinthal seated herself in the shade as the sun finally broke the cloud cover. She carefully eyed the podium where the emperor would speak, pondering Corvus' reasons for not attending.

Suddenly he appeared; a tired old man, some would have said unfittingly dressed in robes of the emperor. On his left stood a slightly younger Chancellor, a bit unshaven and tired looking, and on his right stood a Thalmor ambassador, who crossed his arms neatly and confidently. The old man raised his hand to signal silence, clearing his throat nervously. Slowly he began, a slight wavering in his tone.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Whew, chapter two done. I'd like to know if I'm giving the main characters enough individual time. I'm thinking I'll start breaking off, and have different sets in different chapters.**


	3. The Emperor's Speech I

_"Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour." ~Emperor Uriel Septim VII~_

 **Chapter Three: The Emperor's Speech I**

* * *

Commander Marcus Tyer gazed at the white city rising behind the distant treetops. It took him a while to get this far out, but he knew it was necessary. Now, a dozen soldiers approached, their march speedy and elegant. This was his command, some of the best commandoes ever sent to Morrowind. Each one was worth more than a hundred Legionnaires. They were all obedient and blindly loyal, willing to sacrifice everything for him.

"Commander Tyer" a dark Argonian led the small company. He showed neither respect nor superiority, but a wisdom that only veterans knew. His eyes gleamed as he spoke with utmost frankness, "Did your meeting with the Emperor go well?"

"Neeraz" Tyer brandished his smile, "It went as expected. Councilor Braevius was true to his word… a surprising olive branch considering the kind of man he is." Neeraz crossed his arms over his chest, obviously intrigued, "I expect he's on his way."

Commander Tyer nodded. With his left hand, he silently ordered the soldiers to disappear into the forest, before resting it on the hilt of his sword, "He'll expect me to save him from the Emperor's wrath. I want you to remain in hiding. But be ready to protect me if necessary." The Argonian placed a hand on his hip, leaning sharply to one side." As you wish… Commander." he turned around and darted into the trees, vanishing in. Tyer knew they would be around him in a moment if needed.

In the distance, he heard the rough turning of wagon wheels through wet soil. A carriage roared out of the forest, spitting mud and water everywhere. It came slowly to a stop a few feet away, a deep and wide path behind it.

"Commander!" the voice sounded tired and frustrated. Councilor Braevius alighted from the carriage, obviously not used to personally driving horses. There was a squish as his feet hit some mud.

"Councilor." Commander Tyer held his own, staring the shorter man down, "My compliments… removing six-hundred thousand septims from the royal treasury is quite the feat. Do you have it with you?"

"Yes, it's all in my carriage." the Councilor breathed heavily, his black hair sweaty from his recent workout, "But first… I want you to fulfill your end of the bargain. I wouldn't have done this if you hadn't found out about my earlier embezzlements. But now, the Emperor will want my head when he finds out, so I want what you promised: half the gold, and protection until I get to Hammerfell."

"Is that all?" Commander Tyer tilted his head, tightening his lips like he'd just been chewing a lemon slice. Slowly, he voiced his words, each syllable falling sharp and even, "Do you really think they won't find you Councilor. Every piece of evidence in this points in your direction. They might even figure out I was involved if they get their hands on you," he stopped a moment, blinking once, "which means you're the only lose end." His body stiffened, his posture now tall and erect. The Councilor's eyes widened, as he began to sweat nervously, "Y—you can't mean that. You still need me… Otherwise they'll find out yo—" A sharp knife plunged into his back, knocking both air and blood into his lungs. Red liquid oozed from Councilor Braevius' mouth, dripping on the ground steadily. Commander Tyer's eyes burned with hatred as he pushed the knife deeper into his enemy's back.

"How dare you…" he gritted his teeth and twisted the knife, pulling a pained and suffocated yelp from the Councilor, "You're nothing but a thief… You stole from our Emperor… from our people. You're a damned traitor." He ripped the knife upwards and out, sending Councilor Braevius to the ground. The blood spread across the mud and grass, making for a stark contrast. Tyer panted, brushing back a hair and assuming a more regal pose. Neeraz slithered to his side, eyeing the body sprawled before them, "Commander… why did you kill him?"

"Because he was a traitor." he answered his voice soft but determined, "He betrayed Emperor Titus. He could do the same to us. You know we couldn't risk that." Neeraz nodded, easily convinced. Commander Tyer wiped the blood off his knife with a handkerchief, "Gather the men. Take care of the gold and Councilor Braevius' body. Make sure you give him a proper burial… not like last time. And leave the carriage. It'll be impossible to hide the tracks it made in the mud… unless the Gods bless us with another rain."

"What about yourself?" Neeraz asked.

"The Emperor's speech has already started. I must hurry to get back in time. Do as I said, before some traveler stumbles upon you."

* * *

"Morning friend." Faeorn felt a cold hand shake him in the dark. He slowly came to as the hand's icy sweat drenched his shoulder. The man quickly released his terrible grasp and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his nose with pleasure, "Nice to meet your esteemed acquaintance… Name's Brenuin… or… was it Nuinbre? I can't officially really remember nowadays." the man ended with a hiccup, slumping against the wall, "Whoer you anyways?"

"Ugh… what a night…" Faeorn stroked his temple, completely ignoring the man's question. His fight with Borin must have really been something. Too bad he couldn't remember a single thing about it. Brenuin looked at him curiously, slowly stroking his chin, "Your name?"

"Well… Faeo—Faeorn…damn." Faeorn stumbled to his feet, coughing as he pushed past the coldblooded drunk. A swirl of dizziness and a headache came over him as he did so, forcing him back to the ground, "Gods! My head…"

"Dragonsreach is the price of liquor my friend. I heard you had quite a bit…"

"Quite…" Faeorn groaned. He buried his head in his arms, feeling the pain subside a little bit. His nostrils started to detect a terrible odor in small room. It was a mix of alcohol and plain foulness. He couldn't wait to be out of here.

"Time's up!" A guard shouted as he casually waltzed by, "I'll let you out…and I'd recommend you get a bath." he unlocked the gate, but before letting him outside, extended his hand, "Twenty Septims…"

"What?" Faeorn asked skeptically. The fine had been after all, only a dozen septims last time he was in jail. The guard remained resolute, though sarcastic, "Twenty septims… privilege of the Emperor's coin minters." Faeorn didn't really have the time to deal with this. He had to find Borin before the Nord wandered out of town. So he pulled out his coin purse, and dumped a stack of gold in the guard's hand, "Just let me out of here then."

The guard didn't answer him. He let him out and locked the gate behind him, afterwards motioning for Faeorn to follow. They went down a hall to a large, oaken door, which the guard routinely went over and unlocked. With both hands, he opened it evenly and simultaneously, allowing the first crack of light to shine through the room. Faeorn felt the rush of crisp air reinvigorate and regenerate him, raising his spirits immensely. Looking out, he could see a good distance over the city of Whiterun. He raised his arms up in a grand feeling of reception. This was his city and his life, and he would do what he wanted with them. Nobody would ever tell him otherwise.

"Get out of the door… friend" the guard ordered, perhaps more sober than ought to have been. Faeorn begrudgingly stepped out into the sunlight, still feeling himself smile. He was truly free; free to live his life as he pleased. Behind him, the guard ducked back inside the guard house, and emerged with a bundle of items.

"Your weapons." he declared, dumping them in front of him. A few seconds and the guard was gone, back into the musty dungeon from whence he came. Faeorn bent down to his stash, making sure everything was there. _"Yes…"_ his mace, his bow, his four knifes of different sizes, and even his ebony shield; all the comforts of home. Faeorn grouped them all and returned them to their respective places. It felt good to have the familiar weight on his hips and shoulders. He grinned confidently and made his way back down into the market place, no longer paying attention to the world about him. He felt bright and sunny on this beautiful day. Once down the stairs he actually laughed out loud and threw his hands in the air. He felt like screaming a speech to the world, but not a single word could come to him.

"Well you sound particularly happy." he heard a somewhat familiar voice behind him. He spun around with a one of his stupidest grins imprinted on his face. It faded suddenly when he realized to whom he was speaking. A young lady stood there at her market stall, gently plucking at her eyebrows. She wasn't exceptionally beautiful, but her brown hair and fair skin were still enough to quickly catch his eye. He coughed nervously as he approached her, "Well um yes… I mean er… it's a beautiful day, and I'm not in any debt. I'm healthy. What else is there to wish for?"

"Oh that depends." the lady smiled, "Would you like to buy some fresh leeks? Or potatoes?"

"Well I um… oh er, yes… well yes…" Faeorn paused a moment, then renewed his efforts with a fresh smile. As he placed his hand on some leeks, he mentally approved the idea of impressing her. He began with a small smile, commenting on something both of them seemed to admire, "Oh yes… I'm quite fond of vegetables you know…"

"Oh _really?_ " she asked, her head cocked slyly to the left, "Are you a farmer?"

Faeorn nearly burst out laughing at the idea. He found it hard to keep a straight face, "Oh no… I'm a… um.." he chose his words carefully, a false story forming in his mind, "Knight actually, an honor bound warrior serving the Imperial Council." It sounded good enough, but the woman didn't seem to buy it. After a moment of silence she bent over and renewed her smile, "Do you care for mead?"

Truly, he hadn't expected such a random response, but he wasn't about to be defeated so easily. He stroked his chin meaningfully and shook his head, "I never touch the stuff. The scholars say it's bad for you. Plus, it wouldn't be exactly fitting for an undercover knight of the emperor wasting his day inside a tavern." Admittedly, he should have known better. But she was very fine looking, and his boasting seemed to be working a little.

"Oh I see." the woman suppressed a small chuckle. Faeorn detected a clearly amused grin on her face, but it was already too late. She looked up at him and continued speaking, "Then you wouldn't have been… um… wasted in the streets last night?'

"I…" Faeorn's cheeks flushed red with shame. His skin grew hot and sticky with embarrassment. Of course, a perfect fool he had made himself, and this woman knew it. For several moments he just stood there awkwardly. The lady stared at his face, and then suddenly burst out laughing; a complete fit of hysterical giggles, "Oh you're a funny one!" she said, slamming her hand on the table with a violent twist of her head, "The name's Carlotta… Carlotta Valentia…"

"Um… Fae… Faeo—" Faeorn felt a knot in his throat. He quickly swallowed it and took a step to the left, trying to avoid Carlotta's gaze. Somehow, his hangover began to come back.

"Well don't be so embarrassed Faeo! Do trust me, I've seen far poorer attempts at trying to impress a lady! Too bad I already saw you... in your drunken state no less" she chuckled, trying desperately not to lose it again. Faeorn rubbed his fingers. The embarrassment was far too much to stand. His gloriously bright day had suddenly been dimmed. Tiptoeing, he began to walk away, but was quickly stopped when Carlotta grabbed his hand, "Tough luck." she said, a faint smile on her face. She held out a group of leeks as a gift, "It was a good try, but it would never have worked."

Her kind gaze actually seemed to soothe his embarrassment. Faeorn stopped and glanced at the veggies in her hand. For once, an honest word escaped his lips, "I… actually hate leeks."

Carlotta burst out laughing a second time, "Well that makes two of us!" she flopped them down in their place, "Tell you what… Some friends and I are having lunch together. I insist you join us… oh noble knight of the Imperial Council."

"Well I…yeah." Despite his desire to find Borin, Faeorn felt himself strangely drawn to this young lady, "Well I… okay…" he finished in almost a whisper. The strangest things always seemed to happen to him after he got drunk.

* * *

This was it. As Emperor Titus stepped out onto the platform, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Beneath him stood a few thousand eager faces, all awaiting his speech before Harvest's End. Their faith was the one thing he couldn't afford to lose.

With a pace that matched his own weary expression, he stepped up to the podium, "Natives of Cyrodiil, Skyrim, and High Rock: Citizens of the Empire and visitors from foreign realms." A cheer rose up from the crowd, as all eyes gazed upon his majesty.

"I stand before you on the day before the Harvest's End festival. Every Emperor back to Tibus Septim has given a speech on this day, and it is my great honor to continue this tradition. Remembering this same honor, the honor of the festival, I shall today appoint three new Knights of the Imperial Dragon. These exceptional men and women, former commanders of our finest troops… are to be given the highest honor the Empire can bestow"

Down below, Kayte crossed her arms and gazed up at the man. She didn't know what she'd expected, but this wasn't it. Of course, she didn't really think anything would come of the speech; but she had expected something other than the, "business as usual" motif. A sigh managed to escape her as she looked around at the city she'd lived in for the last two years. Though she spent the last night in a comfortable inn, she knew such comforts wouldn't last. Autumn would soon be upon them, and she would need money. Looking up, she heard the voice of the emperor again,

"Commander Dilannamo… will be honorably invested in the Order of the Imperial Dragon" A slightly overweight wood elf peered over the balcony, clasping his stomach happily. A loud cheer roared out from the crowd.

Kayte rolled her eyes and turned away, wrapping her thin cloak tighter in the ever cooling wind. This had been a complete waste of time. As she started to get away from the crowd, she felt a sneeze rising in her nose. She pinched it quickly to prevent an outburst. Successfully stifling it, she glanced down at her feet, not looking where she was going. Unintentionally, she collided with a woman as they passed, causing her to drop her purse on the ground. Her eyes shot up, completely surprised by the encounter.

Before her, clearly startled, was a young redheaded noblewoman. A Breton like herself, she was clad in a green velvety dress with some golden embroidery. She was surrounded by a pair of special guards, undoubtedly tasked to keep her protected. Her sharp blue eyes were intently staring into Kayte's. If anything, she had the look of money about her.

"Be careful girl!" one of the guards boomed, protective of his lady. Kayte's instincts were to play it nice, and try to smooth the situation over, "Oh… I'm so sorry milady." she bent down and collected all the scattered coins, gathering them together and handing them back.

"That's quite alright." the redhead said, taking the purse back with an acute dignity, "Just ensure it doesn't become a habit… not good form at all." a warm smile hinted at motherly experience. The woman pushed a strand of her vividly red hair back behind her ear, eyeing Kayte curiously "Tell me… just how old are you girl?"

"Nineteen…" Kayte didn't mean to lie. It just came out. The woman barely seemed to believe it, "You look a bit younger."

"I'm nineteen milady."

"Alright…Well you look like an honest girl." The redhead concluded, "My name is Lady Roccina. I would be in a position to hire you as a maid, as I'm in need of one during my extended stay here in the Imperial City. Perhaps you'd be interested?" She folded her hands together, a kind and experienced smile on her face. Kayte answered out of pure instinct, before she even had a chance to think it over, "I would indeed ma'am."

Good… then meet me at this address come five this evening. Don't be late." she handed her a postcard-sized envelope. Kayte nodded and smiled back to her, "I'll be there." The lady closed her eyes a moment, a look of slight relief on her face, "I'll see you then." she turned around and headed off into the crowd, followed by her two goons. Kayte opened the envelope once she'd left, revealing a fancy address in the elven garden district.

 _"Kayte… what on earth have you done?"_ Her heart was galloping with fear and joy. A flood of emotions flushed her body. How on earth had this happened? The whole thing was impossible.

"Commander Ventius… will be honorably invested in the Order of the Imperial Dragon" The sound of the Emperor's voice brought her back. She needed to find someplace to rest, think things over. Like a frightened cat, she scurried down the nearest alleyway.

For Giinthil, this was enough. Thinking on how a little sleep would do her good, she stood up, and made her way down the shining, white cobblestone street. Suddenly, the thought of her earlier adventure reentered her mind. She had never actually gone back to where she and Corvus had chased that thief. Taking another look would certainly be better than just hanging around.

With this thought, she raced down the street towards the barracks, a new purpose driving her onwards. Brekr sat nearby, anxious to leave for Skyrim. But first, he wanted to hear the name of the final Imperial Dragon candidate."

"Commander Marcus Tyer of Morrowind… will be honorably invested in the Order of the Imperial Dragon." Commander Tyer emerged on the balcony beside his two compatriots. This was truly his moment, to stand before the Imperial City as one of the chosen. His thoughts never once drifted back to Councilor Braevius, whose blood still soaked a patch of grass in the forest.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: That seemed like a good place to end. Again, objective criticism is the _most_ desired, including that concerning grammar and word choice. I'm completely fine with brutal honestly. I'm trying to improve my writing skills after all. ;P**


	4. The Emperor's Speech II

_"As for me, I go to my grave. But your stars are not mine. The Gods have other plans for you." ~Emperor Uriel Septim VII~_

 **Chapter Four: The Emperor's Speech II**

* * *

Commander Marcus Tyer stood there at attention. He felt a sense of deep pride in his accomplishment. After all, it was only a few weeks ago that his name was put forth for evaluation. His work in Morrowind and Argonia undoubtedly won his admittance. Still, it felt good to be recognized, even if it was long overdue.

A small pillow was placed in front of the Emperor. Chancellor Arterius made a smooth motion with his hand, indicating for them to approach.

 _"Talos, witness me today…"_ Commander Tyer knelt down before his majesty, bowed his head, and rested the tip of his sword against the ground.

"I… Marcus Tyer, do swear and renew all bonds of fealty to my lord and emperor, Titus Mede II. From this day forth, as a Knight of the Imperial Dragon, my life belongs to my liege, in who's behalf alone, will I ever again take up arms."

"Commander." The Emperor began. Captain Li held out the pommel of his royal sword, which Emperor Titus grabbed, "I now dub thee… Sir Marcus Tyer, Knight of the Imperial Dragon. May you bring us honor all the days that you live."

"Thank you, your majesty." Marcus rose, allowing the next man to kneel down. He noticed a faraway look in the Emperor's eyes, a troubled look.

Down below, Brekr gazed up at all the faces. These men were the future of the empire. Many of the Emperor's most trusted aides were Knights of the Imperial Dragon. To be counted among them was an honor. Still looking up, his own job crept into his mind. As much as he wanted to stay, his own adventure was still trying to tear him away. He also felt he'd stayed long enough to fulfill his patriotic obligation. Now he just needed to run back, grab a few things, and leave before the afternoon grew late.

Invisible in the crowd, he paced his way back to the temple district, his feet softly tapping against the cobblestone. The world was so alive with the chirping of birds and the blowing of wind. The clouds had all but dissipated, and the sun now illuminated everything with its big, smiling face. Puddles of water reflected the sky with absolute perfection. The scent of wet grass filled Brekr's lungs. As he passed an alleyway, he heard a faint but suppressed yelp coming from somewhere out of sight.

"I won't ask again Rufus…" the voice sounded slightly muffled, "We told you what would happen if you didn't pay up."

"But I… you know I can't pay… I can't even affor—" Brekr stopped at the sound of the alarmed voice. A loud thud was followed by the sound of cracking bones. The first voice boomed again, "You really want to find out how this works, Rufus?"

"Damn it all…" Brekr muttered under his breath, pushing past the dark alleyway before his conscious got the better of him. He'd never really been one for confrontations, and he certainly wasn't going to stick his neck out for some random stranger. As he hurried down the street, he tried to push the whole affair from his mind. In the distance, he could here the faint chanting of the Brothers of the Nine. Even on a day such as this, they were loyally worshipping their makers.

For Brekr, It took him roughly half an hour to make it back to his apartment. The whole city was beginning to finally warm up after the rain, making for a slightly more comfortable trip. The fate of the man in the alleyway however, made him feel a pang of guilt.

 _"Wasn't any of my business."_ He justified, pushing open the front door to the Merchant's Inn. The same attendant from that morning met him with a moderate bow, "Mister Brekr, I'm glad you're back. Perhaps you bring some word on the Emperor's speech. It is truly a shame that we must miss it."

 _"You didn't miss much."_ Brekr pushed past the man, hardly in the mood for conversation. The attendant hurried after him, almost grabbing his sleeve, "A package was left for you sir… it's marked important."

Brekr stopped, glancing at the man, "Um… thank you, I'll take a look at it." The man bowed and left him. Brekr hurried upstairs, rushing into his room and closing the door behind him. The package was lying there on his bed, wrapped neatly and tightly. Dashing over to the desk by the window, he grabbed a knife and came back to the package, sitting himself down next to it. Steadily, he cut the bonds and wrapping paper, pulling it off to reveal a light wooden travel chest. It was too large to take on his journey, but still useful. Opening this, he saw several items inside. The first of these was a black satchel, able to fit a multitude of items. The next was a large red journal, richly embroidered with gold threads of different sizes. Brekr took it out with a firm but gentle grasp. It must have been worth its weight it gold. Feeling it again in his hands, he slipped it into the satchel,

Next, there was an metallic ink cylinder with a firm lid. Three legs widely protruded from the bottom, allowing it to stand on most surfaces with ease. There was also three quills of different sizes, and a small letter addressed to him. Brekr set the various items on his bed, then took the letter over to his desk. Moving quickly, he grabbed a letter-opener and cut the seal.

 _Brekr,_

 _Here's some things to help you lad. They shouldn't last you very long, so be sure to pick up more when you're able. Madame is placing a strange amount of faith in you. I know you'll do your best not to disappoint._

 _Antoni Palidor,_

Brekr folded the letter and stuffed it in his satchel. He'd never really liked Antoni, but this was truly a kind thing he'd done.

 _"Kindness…you could use little yourself."_ The thought of that poor man burst back into his head. Brekr thought he'd suppressed it; but the guilt was still there. He'd abandoned that man, like he abandoned most everyone.

* * *

"So…" Corvus began, sitting himself down with his feet on his desk, "You want me… to waste the free time the captain generously gave us, and help you find a "phantom" thief, who stole a mother-load of supplies, socked me in the nose, and then just disappeared on our watch." He looked on at his friend skeptically. Giinthil closed her eyes and sighed, "Yeeeaahh…" Corvus nodded. He had a perceptive gleam in his dark, brown eyes, "Captain gave you rough time didn't he. You feel like you have something to prove. "

Giinthil shook her head, "No, that's not it. I just… I need to do this. It's not about the supplies, or even the man himself. It's just that… the whole thing was so random and weird. I've never been made into such a fool before, and I want to rectify that"

"And that's a matter of honor…" Corvus concluded, standing up from his desk. He crossed his arms in a comfortable way, "Well then I'm with you. But we don't exactly have a place to start, unless you want to check out that marketplace again."

"Yeah we can start there… but I doubt we'll find anything."

"Well then I don't know what to tell you," Corvus said honestly, "We can go look but… we both don't think we'll find anything. Probably a waste of time if you ask me."

"Yes… well, no… I don't know. I feel so useless right now. I need to do _something._ Anything really." Giinthil rubbed the side of her arm, thinking things over in her mind. Corvus blinked a couple times, obviously thinking himself, "Well If that's all that's bothering you, then maybe I _can_ help. How about we go take a patrol down in the market? With the emperor's speech going on an' all, we might catch somebody tampering with the stores."

"Oh.." Giinthil exclaimed, slightly more energetic than she was a moment before, "I was meaning to ask you about that."

"About what?"

"The Emperor's speech…"

Corvus leaned back against a table, "You mean why didn't I go… Well I know the appointing of The Knights is a tradition, but they're not even pretending to address our problems. Maybe we just need more reforms and war preparation, and fewer parades and speeches. "

Giinthil nodded unenthusiastically. She wasn't big on politics, especially Imperial ones, "Mmmm…mmkay well… do you want to take that patrol then?"

"Certainly." Corvus moved to the other side of the room, quickly grabbing his sword from the table, "I'm hungry though… are you?"

"No I'm fine." Giinthil said, snatching a cheese roll up from a third table, "But take this." She said, tossing it to him. Corvus caught it with ease, chuckling a bit before being interrupted by the sound of his stomach, "Ugh… Do you know what time it is?"

"I think it's a little after noon…"

"Hmm." Corvus sighed, "His majesty's speech should be finishing up by now. Think anyone's still listening?"

"Probably"

"Of course they are. They're nervous after all" Corvus said with conviction. His thick furry eyebrows crumpled as he did so,"That whole thing brewing in Skyrim. The unrest here in Cyrodiil. They want an emperor who can really guide and protect them."

Giinthil smiled, "You know… I know you won't admit it, but you really are a politician yourself. Giinthil grabbed her furry own cloak, wrapping it around her neck, "But in any case, you're probably right anyways."

Corvus smiled, wrapping his own cloak over his shoulders, "Ain't I always?"

"You're such an idiot." she laughed giddily, giving him a soft shoulder punch before heading back outside.

* * *

"Faeorn!" Borin opened his arms to greet his friend, "I had no idea you'd be joining us!" he clasped a hand against his stomach. "Allow me to introduce my new friends… Jon, Kjerm, Oritur, and Aeria." Seated at a large table, Borin was surrounded by four or five of his new "friends." It wasn't really surprising the see him here. The burly nord could get himself into anyone's good graces, whether it be the harshest guard or the cruelest king. They all faltered to his perilous charm.

Carlotta looked surprised. Faeorn almost missed it, for she covered it well. Chuckling, she walked up to the gentleman closest to her, "Jon. I'd like to introduce an acquaintance of mine." she gestured back to Faeorn with one hand, "Mister Faeo."

"And he's an old friend of mine!" Borin proclaimed, cutting in on the infant conversation. Faeorn smiled and bowed his head slightly, "Faeo… ughm, Faeorn Palidor." There was a rise of amused chuckles from the table.

"Why so formal Mister Faeo?" Aeria asked. She was eyeing him curiously, "As a friend of Borin Fine-Fur, you are more than welcome at our table."

"Agreed." Borin clasped his stomach, "I insist both you… and your beautiful lady join us." Faeorn saw Carlotta glance at him, her brows knitted in a slightly annoyed way. Aeria and Oritur made some room , allowing them both to take a seat at different sides of the table. Kjerm grabbed two bowels of beef stew and placed them before them.

"So Faeorn…" Borin started, "I heard we made quite the stir last night."

"Indeed." Jon joined in the conversation, "There were a lot of unhappy betters. It was too bad they broke you two up."

"I'll say." Borin leaned back in his chair, "It seems impossible to find a good bar fight nowadays. It's all _rules_ and _regulations._ Rigidity, complete rigidity. Why is everyone so rigid nowadays? It's like they're afraid of adventure."

"I wouldn't know." Carlotta said, "I haven't had much experience outside the world of selling crops."

"Well my dear girl. I can understand what it's like living inside a small world. I used to be a stable boy myself, bound to the ground by chains of loyalty. One day, I just… broke my chains… broke em' and picked myself up, pushed my way to the top, and now I rest comfortably on my throne of victory."

"Then you are to be congratulated sir. I don't know anyone else who can present such an inspiring "rags to riches".

"Borin Fine-Fur has told us only a few of his adventures, Carlota. I must say though, I've never met someone so experienced.. so wise." Oritur also appeared to be an acquaintance of Carlotta's. Faeorn could tell she relaxed when he spoke.

 _"Experienced? Wise?"_ Faeorn sat in his chair silently, nibbling at his stew like a well-mannered child. Borin must have been doing a little elaboration in his conversations. Something they both seemed to have in common.

"You give me too much credit Oritoss…em Oritour. I'm just a simple warrior making his living across Skyrim."

 _"Such a con…"_ Faeorn smiled whenever someone looked at him… letting events unfold as Borin intended.

"But men like you should be honored." Oritur insisted, his brow knitted into a frown, "I mean… the time you went up against the 12 vicious blades… assassins skilled in every manner of warfare. Those deeds deserve credit."

"I'm sure Borin is a warrior of exceptional skill." Carlotta added, an uninterested gaze written on her face. She abruptly dipped her spoon into her stew, taking some out to put into her mouth. As the conversation droned on, Faeorn caught her eyes glance at him more than once. She didn't seem to be enjoying Borin's boastful stories of fame and glory.

This was their position when the message came. A trio of Imperial guards hurried down the street, looking to have come from the palace. One of them grabbed a box and stood atop it, raising his hands in the air, "People of Whiterun, I have news that deeply affects all of you." Faeorn, Carlotta and the rest all stopped when the man began. Everyone in the vicinity was gazing at him.

The soldier pulled out a scroll from his satchel, and began reading from it, "Two days ago… Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak forced any and all Imperial Soldiers and representatives from the city of Windhelm. General Tullius, sent an emissary upon hearing word of the disturbance. To our own surprise, The Jarl… and those who follow him, have unlawfully declared their independence from the Empire. General Tullius has published the following proclamation, which foreruns an expected order from the Imperial City."

Around him. Faeorn could see the faces turning sour. True, unrest ran deep, but this way unexpected. The Imperial Soldier fumbled through his possessions, pulling out a small note from within his satchel. "Ahem… _Citizens of the Empire, as the right hand of the Emperor in Skyrim, I extend to you the following offer: Jarl Ulfric has betrayed his country, his Emperor, and his duty. He's declared war upon his liege, in who's name I put forth a call for 7000 volunteers, to crush the rebellion in Eastmarch. All able-bodied soldiers will be payed a standard wartime fee, being relieved at the end of a six-month period. Answer the call. It's your duty and obligation._

 _General Tullius, Governor General of All Imperial Forces in Skyrim."_

There was a long silence. The man stepped off his stool and folded the letter, clearing his throat, "Um… that's all." He eagerly spun around on his heel and ran somewhere out of sight, his friends in tow. Everyone just sat there a moment, a few whispers being passed back in forth. Carlotta looked positively struck dumb, slumped back in her chair with her hand on her mouth. Borin alone, didn't seem moved by the speech

"Faeorn…" he started, his eyes gleaming with some newfound purpose, "Do you know what this means?" Faeorn shook his own head. None of this seemed to make any sense right now. Maybe it would with a little rest.

"It means war… Faeorn. There's gonna be one helluva fight. It means battle, honor, glory… for all of us. "

* * *

 **Author's Notes: War in Skyrim… unfortunate but inevitable. It's a bit of a smaller chapter this time. I'm pretty busy through November and December, but I'll try to get a couple chapters out.**


	5. Kayte's Scheme

_Shadow hide you. ~Thieves Guild Saying~_

 _A seven year old breton girl gazed up. She had curly blonde hair with bunches of mud caked around her face. Her bare toes curled in the icy snow as she huddled in a small corner. Cold and alone, she looked up at her savior, small tears dripping from her eyes._

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Kayte's Scheme**

It was five o'clock in the afternoon when Kayte was arriving at an older home in the Elven Gardens district. Knowing how Lady Roccina would be waiting inside, she had used the money she stole that morning, purchased a red dress that went down to her ankles, and cleaned up as best she could. In her right hand, she bore a small chest that contained her belongings. Ready for the meeting, all that now remained was for her to impress her employer, and show that she would be nothing but a benefit.

In terms of her task, this house was sure to be full of riches and valuables, though only something special would due. Whatever her gift ended up as, it would serve as an opus of service to the Thieves Guild; One that would undoubtedly get her in their good graces. Over all, the process would be a simple one: Perform one's duties for a few weeks, find something of value, steal and lay low for a while. The guild could undoubtedly erase any bounty incurred. The sole danger would be getting caught before she could make the delivery.

Or so she believed. Truly, this plan was far more dangerous than Kayte cared to admit. After all, how many maids could she recount who'd had stolen from their masters and escaped. The answer could be counted on one hand. And then there were those guards. The pair of goons would undoubtedly present an obstacle, and they didn't look like people to mess with.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. This was it. Moving with a stride that must have betrayed her nervousness, she feebly knocked on the wooden door. A sound barely resonated as her fist struck the wood.

" _Keep your nerve girl… you can do this._ " Raising her gloved hand again, she struck the door a second time. A quick rustle was heard inside, followed by a middle-aged housekeep opening the entrance. She was imperial, with lush grey hair flowing from her head.

"What may I do for you?" she asked, very matter-of-fact.

"M'name is Kayte ma'am. I was offered a position by the good lady." As she spoke, she realized how short she must have looked compared to this other woman. Her earlier nervousness was partially laid to rest however, mainly from the housekeeper's warm smile. She seemed to be expecting her.

"Indeed, she informed me you'd be a'comin. Please, step inside my dear." The housekeeper opened the door just enough to allow Kayte in, firmly closing it behind her. The clicking of the latch was like the point of no return. She was committed now.

Her own hands sweaty inside her gloves, Kayte realized she could hear her own heartbeat. This was strange. She had never felt such a strong and rich mix of terror and anticipation. It was odd… and somewhat lovely.

"Wait here… I'll tell Lady Roccina you've come." The housekeeper swept across the room to a staircase, holding her skirt as she ascended. Feeling relieved and a bit more relaxed, Kayte took the moment to give the room a once over. Cecilia had taught her to always do this in the hope of spying valuables, and to be inconspicuous about it.

This was a house of exceptional decor. Ancient tapestries of red and gold hung on vividly painted walls, showcasing the family's bygone tales and adventures. Weapons and armor, shining like gems of the earth, were carefully placed on racks and mannequins. Plates of carven silver lay in polished cabinets of ancient wood. Pieces of furniture, each with a story of their own, took up the remaining space. Upon a roof of darkest blue, lay a field of white stars, encircling in convergence and density upon the far wall. Upon this was a family tree, males presented in gold, and women in silver.

On the table near her, the two guards from earlier were seated, quietly talking and ignoring her. The sight gave her a little jump, for she hadn't noticed them when she entered. As a pair of brutes, they were exceptionally quiet.

"The lady of the house is ready to see you." The housekeeper, with silence equal to the goons, had returned. Kayte began to figure this was a law in this place, unspoken but strictly enforced.

"Thanks—er—thank you ma'am." Kayte hurried up the stairs to meet her. The housekeeper opened another door, her smile still warm, but more serious. This room was similar to the last, but smaller and slightly warmer. More tapestries attired the walls, accompanied by a few broad chairs and tall wardrobes. Lady Roccina was already seated, her long red hair draped over one shoulder. Her blue eyes met hers as she entered. This woman looked a bit different from the one Kayte met this morning. Looking older and more wise, the difference was immediately apparent. Also noticeable were a few streaks of grey amongst the woman's otherwise red head of hair. With one hand, Lady Roccina motioned towards the chair opposite of her.

"You may sit if you wish." Her voice sounded polite, while her blue eyes sharply shone. Kayte did as was recommended, feeling vastly inferior compared to the regal woman before her. Earlier anxiousness resurfaced as the woman spoke again.

"You must be the youngster I encountered this morning. Tis good you have come. Sometimes, as I gaze out my window, I realize how lonely it can be in this house, with only Fauntia, and my two guards. It will be good to have you if you stay. Thus, I do hope this conversation ends positively. Now tell me girl, where are you from?"

"…Cyrodiil… ma'am?" Kayte wanted to cross her legs, being stopped by better judgement. The woman folded her hands in her lap, comfortable but with her full attention on Kayte, "I mean what city?"

"Well I'm from… here ma'am. The Imperial City that is." Kayte swallowed and tried not to sound nervous. The skin beneath her curly blonde hair tingled a bit. The lady merely nodded her head in an insightful manner, "So you didn't travel here to hear the Emperor's speech."

"No ma'am?" Kayte felt more than a little skittish. She found herself forcing a smile as she spoke.

"Then I presume you were less dismayed than your peers." The words left the woman's mouth with elegance and precision. Kayte felt this line of questioning was strange. Did Lady Roccina want her insight on something, or was she simply deducing her character.

"I uh…truly, I was… joyful in his majesty's choices for knighthood. I believe and trust that he has… our best interests at heart." Kayte had a little trouble getting any words to come to her. Lady Roccina nodded her head slightly, "I am pleased to here you say that. It is important to trust those who rule over us… even as they depend on all for loyalty and support." she stopped, eyeing Kayte over again, "As for you, I believe a trial run is order, since you offered up your time… which I am sure is quite valuable. For this week, my housekeeper will show you your duties, and will watch and evaluate you. Make no mistake, it's no easy task for one maid to care for a home. Fauntia has been doing it for some time, in addition to the cooking. I'm sure she will welcome the extra help."

With that, Lady Roccina motioned towards the door, where the housekeeper was already waiting, "Follow Fauntia. She'll show you about your duties"

"Right this way miss." The housekeeper motioned for Kayte to follow her. Together, they went down the hall to an opposing door, behind which was a back staircase. Down that, and they were in another hall with several doors. Fauntia led them both to one at the end.

"This will be your room." Fauntia pushed a fat key into a shot beneath the knob. The door opened with a small push, revealing a small but exceptional room. There was a pair of windows on the far side, illuminating a vast painting which spanning the entire roof. Like the main rooms, this place bore elaborate furniture, though slightly older and more worn. Despite its modesty, it completely blew Kayte away. This was a girl who was used to sleeping in shacks and corners. Compared to it all, the bed alone looked incredible.

"Why…this is mine?" Kayte barely noticed the naive tone that was now plaguing her voice.

"Well yes… I'm terribly sorry, is there something wrong with it?" Fauntia looked alert and alarmed at the prospect of the room having deficiency. Kayte couldn't begin to guess why.

"No ma'am, this… this room is, quite spectacular."

"Well I… hardly girl!" Fauntia laughed, shaking her head a little, "But this should serve you well, if end up staying with us. Whatever the case, this is your room for the next week. Take some time to get settled. I'll be back later to begin showing you your duties." With a bemused smile on her face, the woman departed, leaving the overwhelmed girl to herself.

 _"So… incredibly worth it."_ It took a full five minutes to fully intake the room. It wasn't more impressive than the others, but it was hers. The most attractive thing in the whole place had to be the bed. As she looked around, Kayte found that her eyes just kept drawing back to it. It was, after all, larger and softer looking than any she'd ever seen. Impressive, it was something that no poor girl could resist.

Setting her bag on the ground nearby, Kayte carefully removed off her gloves and placed them on a desk beside an oil lamp. She then approached the bed, and placed her bare hands on its silky surface, pushing deep down into the fluff. Pressuring it some more, she found that the whole of her forearm sank into the bed, or so it seemed. Most people would now be satisfied, but not Kayte. This was amazing. She really needed to feel this thing. There was no way she'd be able to think of anything else until she did.

Few people would consider going to bed like jumping in a river, but Kayte did. There was really only one way to be fully emerged, and that was to take the plunge. With one small leap, Kayte jumped onto the bed, feeling her body sink deep into the covers. It was like floating on a cloud.

"Dear makers…!" she cried, her voice high and cracking. She spread her arms out, trying taking in the full softness. Her back, used to resting on hard dirt and straw, sang out in joy at the pleasure it received. Cecilia would be jealous if she saw her now. If nothing else, this bed made the whole affair worth it.

Pressed against her ankles, Kayte's shoes now gave a tightness that contradicted the pleasure this bed represented. The more the rest of her body relaxed, the more uncomfortable her feet felt. There was no way she could stop until she'd felt completely relaxed. The housekeeper _did_ say to become settled after all.

Annoyed, Kayte jolted up into a sitting position, looking to untie her shoes as quickly as possible. To her own shock, she saw that there was a large smear of mud on the blanket, undoubtedly left from the heels of her dirty footwear.

The rain of course. Kayte had completely forgotten about that. She slapped one hand against her forehead, cursing herself for her own stupidity. As quickly as she could, she undid the laces just enough to get her shoes off. Jumping out of bed, she raced over to the door, dumping them nearby. She took off her stockings as well, taking a moment to rub her toes into the soft rugs that stood between her and the wood floor. Running back to the bed, she wrenched the soiled blanket off, stuffing it in a corner to get it out of the way.

Kayte climbed onto the bed again, this time determined to enjoy the full experience. Laying on her back wasn't enough now. Rolling on her side, she couldn't help but close her eyes for a moment, then five minutes. Before she realized what was happening, she'd fallen asleep.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door, loud enough for any waking person to here. The handle twisted, and Fauntia entered with a platter of food covered by a cloth. Her eyebrows leaped when she saw the state of the place.

"Good heavens…" she muttered to herself, setting the platter down on the table. She figured the girl must have been hungry and brought some food for her. Now seeing Kayte on the bed however, a smile crossed her face.

"Poor lass." she sighed, walking over to one of the closets. Her eyebrows again jumped again upon seeing the soiled blanket in the corner.

"That lass." She muttered with slight annoyance as she grabbed the blanket and looked it over. The mud stains surprised her, but seeing the girl's shoes explained everything. It was really late in the afternoon now, and Autumn would soon be upon them. Even now she could feel a bit of cold rising from the floor. Opening one of the closets, she grabbed a fresh blanket for the girl, spreading it out over her small frame.

"N-no I—I didn't…" Barely audible, Kayte babbled a little in her sleep, as she wrapped herself in the blanket provided. Fauntia put the soiled one beneath her arm, and tiptoed out of the room, leaving the platter of food for when the girl awoke.

"Fauntia, is that you down there?" She could hear her mistress calling, a sure signal to hurry upstairs. With sigh, she left the blanket in the wash room, and hurried upstairs to where Lady Roccina was.

"Right here ma'am." she performed a lazy curtsy, having known her mistress since she was a little girl. The breton noble was now standing, a book in her hand as she looked outside.

"How is the girl… has she been shown her duties yet?"

"Um I'm afraid not ma'am…" Fauntia came a little closer, standing next to her mistress by the window, "I'm afraid Miss Kayte was quite taken with the bed." An a small chuckled escaped Lady Roccina's lips, the like of which few others save Fauntia would ever see, "She did… well I think we should forgive her then." her expression tightened again in a 'back to business' sort of way, "Tomorrow though, please ensure she is instructed first thing."

"That I shall ma'am… that I shall."

* * *

"Giinthil, we've been searching around here for over two hours." Corvus had reached the end of his rope. His friend, a bosmer with less years than him, had insisted they come out to the marketplace a second time, just to see if there was any sign of yesterday's thief. By now, this was bordering on the ridongculous.

"I know Corvus." Giinthil knew she was grasping at straws. Somehow, she just believed he would come back. A nobody, who stole things no one cared about, would return for some reason.

"Now honestly… I want the truth Giin." Corvus felt his own temper rising. If there was anything he hated, it was pointless foolishness, "You asked me to come help you search the market, fine. But really, there's no reason either of us should be walking around here, other than to try and soothe your wounded pride at losing such a simple case, which I might also add, I lost too. There's absolutely no reason."

"Ugh… I know.. you're right." Giinthil placed one hand on her hip, and other against her forehead, while shifting her weight onto her other leg, "It's just… I must seem completely incompetent to the captain, but that man honestly vanished. You and I both saw it. And I just know the look Captain Fabian is going to give me. Everything in his eyes will say 'Oh, what a damn fool you are. I should put you on trash detail'" she made a mocking interpretation of the captain's voice.

"You'll be fine. Everyone gets made a fool of at some point. I'm sure the Captain won't forget your entire service record on account of a little incident in the market" Corvus couldn't help but smile. His friend was really something else, "

"Guards, guards!" a voice echoed across the markets as a rather chubby high elf, richly dressed, sprinted over to them, beads of sweat running down his thin bean-shaped face, "There's been… a… a murder I'm afraid…or two of them." He held his hand to his brow, looking near to fainting. Giinthil's eyes widened into a circle. "Wha—?!… Where did this happen!?" she asked, barely able to control her own excitement. Imagine, a real live murder on their watch. This might be just the thing to redeem her with the Captain The High Elf swayed back and forth, looking very unsteady on his feet, "The… the temple… I mean the chapel… the chapel of Dibella!"

"The chapel?" Corvus asked in faint whisper. This was no longer so exciting. The Imperial City had a major chapel dedicated to each of the Divines. Only a malicious soul would dare to shed blood in those holy places. Surely someone who was possessed or insane.

Instinctively drawing her sword, Giinthil nodded her head, "Lead the way, citizen."

"Oh, of course…" The high elf answered, "Follow me you two. " he nervously inched off into the dark, folding his arms to ward off the constantly increasing cold. When they reached the door to the chapel, the elf cleared his throat and loudly swallowed, "I really don't want to go back in there…"

"Alright then." Corvus answered, "But get yourself to the barracks and inform them what you told us. We'll investigate this."

"But I…" The elf nibbled his bottom lip, "Oh very well…" he dashed off into the dark, panting like a scared dog. Corvus grabbed the latch of the door, opening it slowly. To his own shock, he found that his nostrils were instantly awakened by the stench of fresh blood.

"Puaah!" He let the door slam, shaking his head violently, "It seriously reeks in there. Better ready yourself."

Opening the door again, Corvus coughed a bit as he stepped inside. Following him, Giinthil could only see a faint light at the center altar, the one which glorified all of the Divines. Both her and Corvus inched over, spying what looking like bodies draped over and around it. There was something sickening about this place, as if it had been damaged, or corrupted even. A murky red light surrounded and engulfed the two of them, illuminating the foul smelling corpses scattered around. Giinthil bent over and examined one the victims, not prepared for her discovery.

Their _hearts_ were gone! Giinthil felt her wrists tremble with fear as she realized the extent of the mutilation. There were strange runes plastered around the altars, explaining what the hearts were used for. Giinthil's thoughts were those of absolute horror. This was something out of the darkest of dreams. She needed to get out. As she took a step back, ready to run, she heard a crunching beneath her foot. She looked down, and screamed.

"Gods!" she dropped her sword, leaping back, "Oh Gods..! Gods..! Tears of fright and terror spouted out of her eyes. Corvus also took a step back, gripping his sword in his own cold hands. He was petrified, too frozen to offer her any kind of comfort.

"Th— the absolute barbarity." he finally said.

"Oh Gods… I'm okay." Giinthil placed her hand over her mouth, calming herself down "The runes… Oh Gods Corvus, do you know what they say?"

"No." Corvus answered, his voice strained and breaking, "It looks Daedric though. This must have happened during the Emperor's speech. The priests must have stayed to care for the temple."

"But why?!" Giinthil could feel herself choking, "How does anyone gain from this?"

" _Corvus! Giinthil!_ _Damn_ both of you! Get out here before I do something drastic." An all too familiar voice shouted right outside the door. It was the voice of their Captain… Captain Fabian of the Imperial Guard. He was a man lacking charm, tact, and any kind of diplomacy. Due to this and many other factors, he'd never risen much his career.

 _"Damnit!_ I know you're both in there Out this instant! Giinthil spun around on her heel, drying her eyes as quickly as possible, "We better not keep him waiting."

Corvus didn't answer, but mutely followed her back outside. Captain Fabian was strutting around like a peacock, five goons shadowing his every move.

"Attention!" The Captain's voice boomed like thunder. The five guards stopped short and stood in file, saluting him smartly. Fabian signaled them with his left hand, "Get in there men, look around for any signs of the murder." He obviously didn't have any idea of the extend of what happened.

"Now as for you two!" He turned his attention to Giinthil and Corvus, his chest swelling up despite a constricting chest-piece, "I want a complete report Guardsmen. After yesterday's incompetence, I have very little patience concerning either of you two buffooloos" He folded both of his massive, tree-trunk arms behind his back, holding his head higher than a Rooster who'd just won a cock fight, "This is the Imperial Guard _damnit_ … the best security force in all of Cyrodiil. Nay in Cyrodiil. In the whole _Gods-damn_ Empire! Now I want to be very clear! When I want you to exit a building, you better do it before I ask again! When I say jump, you jump! When I say cut a man's eye out, you better do thus! D I make myself absolutely, _Gods-Damn_ , crystal clear?!"

"Yes ser." Corvus saluted. Giinthil took a second longer getting her hand up, still traumatized from the gruesome scene in the church. Nevertheless, she managed to get out a weary, "Ser."

"Guardwoman Giinthil!" The Captain's mouth opened like a giant whirlpool, "When I ask you if I make myself clear, you better respond in the first, _Gods-damn_ moment! Understood?!"

"Captain Fabian!" One of the goons burst out of the door, his hair nearly standing strait up, "You better see this, ser."

"What?!" The commander moved his massive body through the door, forgetting all about the two guards he was disciplining. A loud shout was heard, followed by a dozen curse words. A much silenter Captain exited the building, holding his hands behind his back. Two of the guards followed him.

"You there, soldier!" Fabian called, though much quieter than before. One of his blindly loyal henchmen stood ready in an instant. The Captain stroked the back of his neck, noticeably disturbed from his experience, "Fetch me one of the scribes. We need to know what those runes say."

"Ser…they're probably all at the party… You do know sir, The Emperor is having a party tonight to congratulate the new Knights."

"I know that, you idiot… but fetch me one anyways… this is important! Whatever you do, don't let word if this get around! The last thing we need is some of nobility or clergy panicking! Also, round up some soldiers and put a guard on this thing. Nobody enters, understood?"

"Yes ser!" The man tootled away, eager to do his master's bidding. Commander Fabian looked back at Giinthil and Corvus, much more weary than before, "You two may take the rest of the day off. I must however, request that you remain at the barracks. We may have need of you."

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I focussed quite a bit on Kayte's character this time around, not forgetting the lovely guard duo. I'm trying to draw us farther away from material established in the last few chapters, fleshing out in a different direction while moving forward at the same time. I know we're moving slow, but things'll come around. Anyways, reviews will always be appreciated.**


	6. Friendly Concern

_"Skyrim's harshness has a way of carving a man down to his true self." ~General Tullius~_

 **Chapter Six: Friendly Concern**

* * *

This time of year, the Imperial Countryside was a true beauty to behold. For in the wake of the recent rains, the grass had turned an emerald sheen, which was starkly contrasted by rich, dark soil which was spread loosely around it. Small pools of water filled some of the lower areas, often flowing in till the grass looked like an unnaturally green seaweed in coastal waters.

Through the hours after six o'clock, the sky would darken, and the sun would cast the hills in a soft, warm glow. Long ago, the great nord hero, Tiber Septim, came to this land and cooled it into a temperate countryside, with tropical rainforests only remaining in the far south.

In the center of this particular group of hills was a stone inn. To a weary traveler, the first sign of this tavern would be the smoke rising from the chimney. Next, the top of the building would be seen as they traveled the Orange Road. They would undoubtedly stop upon passing, if only to catch a whiff of ale and a rest.

On this particular day, having left the Emperor's speech that morning, Brekr Oaken-Fire hiked the trail towards the North, every step taking him closer to Skyrim. As he neared the stone inn, he spied a callow-looking gentleman leaning his twig-like body against a stone fence that had probably been there for more than few generations.

"Greetings friend…" The man had a lazy look in his left eye. Both his eyes winced and vibrated unnervingly.

"Hello there…" Brekr started, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of politeness. He felt glad to see another face after five hours of solid travel. Rubbing his hands together, the man came closer, sizing him up in a moment.

"You must be heading to The Squabblers… all them travelers do."

"Squabblers?" Brekr asked.

"The inn of course." The callow-looking man crossed his arms like he was talking to a five year old, "Only the most famous tavern in all the Heartlands. Twas here that we farmers held off the dremora during the Obli'von Crisis. Trust me. You won't find finer beds or cheaper ale until you get to Bruma, and that's a good two day's walk away."

Brekr raised an eyebrow. Inns in these parts usually had a reputation.

"How far is it?" he found himself asking. The callow-looking gentleman stroked his chin, "Oh… a ways down the path. You'll see a chimney rising up like a giant tower."

Smiling socially, Brekr bid the man goodbye and proceeded up the beaten path, which turned out to be a rather wide and winding trail that effortlessly leaped over the hills and curved its way down to the tavern. This was made of dark, red stone and black tiling on the roof. Elven pillars supported the corners, having obviously been brought here for the beginning foundation. The windows were small but sturdy, providing a view into the building in which Brekr would stay. The door radiated heat from inside, welcoming him in.

"How do you do mo'sier?!" A breton woman met him as he entered, curtsying and bowing her head, "My name is Lelyne sir. What may I get you."

Brekr knew what he wanted: A small table away from prying eyes where he could finally relax in tranquility. Looking around, he realized how hard this might be to find. For though homey, the inn was stuffed with people of all kinds, shouting and laughing like sacks of grain being shaken violently. The sound of folk music rose above even this, lifting even the darkest of spirits out of misery. Brekr himself felt a sense of relaxation that he could tell this woman shared. It was this mood of music that called to everything noble in a man, prompting him to speak with every civility to his fellows.

"A room please miss, and a table if you please." Brekr unbuckled his cloak and tossed it over his arm. Lelyne smiled, the gold candlelight shining in her lively eyes. She motioned with one hand to the far side of the room, towards a lonely table that would serve his needs perfect, "That should serve you well sir. Please enjoy yourself. Tis the Harvest Festival after all, and we always wait for word on the Emperor's Speech before we begin our own, humble celebrations."

 _Harvest Festival._ Brekr had almost complete forgotten. Being so wrapped up with all that'd happened, he'd had no time to enjoy himself. Lucky for him, there were festivities in every corner of the land. And all would be welcome, even strangers.

Allowing himself to be led by the woman, he seated himself at the table, dumping his cloak at satchel next to him and leaning back. The plucking of the lute, touch his eardrums again, followed by the blowing of winds and the playing of fiddles. He could also hear the clapping of hands around him. The people seemed happy.

"Hello everyone… please be quiet for a moment!" A small lady jumped up on a stool, shushing and trying to hush everyone. The music died and the people quieted as she slapped her hands against her hips, undoubtedly in pride at quieting them all, "So… s is the custom at the Squabblers, we shall now begin celebrating the Harvest Festival. Food and drinks are on the house."

A loud cheer cut off the end of her statement. With a smile on her face, she hopped off the stool and signaled the bards to begin playing again. This time the music was livelier, with more energy, zeal, and patriotism poured in. Several couples arose from their seats and began dancing to the clear rhythm. Brekr didn't really know much about dancing. It was always a mystery to him, a strange language to which only those with too much time on their hands could be bothered to learn.

Still, he smiled to himself as he reached for his satchel. Everyone needed to unwind, and dancing did that for some people. As for himself, pulling out the stack of letters and notes brought an important thought back into his mind.

 _Vampires._ The case was about vampires wasn't it. Strange; with all his excitement he'd nearly forgotten. But it was coming back to him now. Vampires had attacked the Vigil of Stendarr, destroying their hall in a terrible slaughter

At first thought, this attack struck Brekr as strange, since the order was mainly founded to root out those who worshipped Daedra, or The Princes of Oblivion as they were commonly referred. It was definitely strange that vampires were involved. To Brekr, his first thought was a dangerous, blood-sucking creature of darkness. And rightly so, for there were endless tales of the monsters that mercilessly murdered and prayed on decent folk.

The very thought sent a chill down his bone. Brekr hadn't thought about it before, but he might need just a bit of help.

 _Mercenary…_ Something was forming in his mind. As a journalist, Brekr knew a little about working with a half-formed solution to a problem. Truly, as he outlined the requirements in his head, he started to grasp the kind of person he'd need.

 _Someone with a good sword arm, who knows both the land and its creatures._

Next, he pulled out his map and reviewed over his route. Going over the Jerralls, he'd pass through a slab of Falkreath, and aim for Whiterun at the center.

* * *

 _The young lad plunged into the lake with a splash. Like a blast of wind, the water rushed through his white shirt and dark trousers, soaking him to the bone._

Lights and candles adorned the marketplace as the music of the bards filled the cold air. A great bonfire burned in the center, surrounded by dance floors and tables of food. Food was certainly aplenty. The cold, night air blew softly throughout.

Despite the recent rebellion in Eastmarch, the people of Whiterun had remained quite cheerful during the Harvest Festival. Perhaps it was just the desire for one more day of normality. Surely no one would begrudge them that. As Faeorn wandering around the dancing peasants and feasting nobles, he felt himself in an atmosphere most alien to him, the like of which he surely did not belong.

"Faeorn Palidor!" Borin's silhouette burst in front of him, the muscles on his arms flailing about like bags of sand. This was the first Faeorn had seen of him since that morning. With no word from his friend, he'd assumed his purpose was to volunteer."

"Borin." he exclaimed, not sounding surprised in the least, "You…signed on with the Legion?"

"I did, in fact." Borin grinned, "A fight in Eastmarch, glory, battle, killing. It's all a man like me could ask for."

"Truly..." Faeorn sardonically noted, walking with his arms behind his back. Borin followed him, walking along the rim of fire's light, "And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean. You hardly know anything about this, and you're just jumping on the bandwagon?"

"I'm a fighter. It doesn't matter to me who I fight for. One fight's as good as the next."

Faeorn stopped, turning to his friend with more than skeptical feeling, "You mean you don't care!?"

"Of course not. I thought you'd know that much about me by now." Borin's eyes were both bright and fiery in the glow. Faeorn could tell he was sincere. Despite all their time together, he still knew so little about this man, his desires, motivations. Everything seemed to be hidden behind an impenetrable veil, one that could not be pierced.

"Well anyways… I'm feeling tired." Borin continued, placing a hand on Faeorn's shoulder, "Enjoy the party my friend. Maybe you'll run into sweet lass again. She seemed… nice."

Faeorn felt a small flush in his cheeks, "Eh… thanks Borin. Go ahead and get some sleep. I think I'll watch the dancing a little. Maybe get some foodfood."

"Aye, see you tomorrow then." Borin slipped away towards the inn where he was staying, leaving Faeorn to wander back to the fire, and feel its warm embrace touch his cheeks. The lively music danced around him, giving him a little pick-me-up. For now, he felt content.

He didn't know how long he stood near the flames. Eventually he found himself gazing at it with empty thoughtfulness. It wasn't until a small crowd of children brushed past him that he was brought back to his senses. Being pulled out of his thoughts, he moved sharply and collided with one small creature. An apple went flying from her fist, landing on the ground with a loud thud. The others hardly noticed the accident of their friend, scampering away without another thought.

"Oh, ow." she sat up with a quickness only contained in the elastic durability of a child. She placed one her hand on the back of her head, groaning as she wrinkled her nose. Faeorn bent down the make sure she was okay, giving her a quick once-over.

"I'm terribly sorry." he smiled, feeling more sleepy than anything else. The girl smiled weakly, still rubbing the back of her head, "It's okay mister…" she grabbed her apple, her brow furrowing as she discovered a large bruise in the side.

"It was for mum." she sighed, stroking the bruise with tenderness. Faeorn though quickly, spying a barrel of apples by a closed market stall. Swiping one like a flash of lightning, he handed it to her as a present.

"Why don't you give your mum this?" he suggested, pressing it into her hand. The girl's face lit up like a candle. She stood and grinned, dropping the old apple like yesterday's scraps.

"Thank you mister!" she laughed, stroking her new apple cheerfully, "My name's Mia!"

"Well hello Mi—"

"Why don't you come with me!? Mum loves meeting new people!"

"Well I—"

"Please sir." she pleaded, shaking the apple to emphasize each word. Even the coldest heart would be melted by that rather innocent smile. Faeorn chuckled and smiled, hearing the start of a new song from the bards.

"Okay." he said, letting her grab his hand and lead him. Heedless of all obstacles, she pulled him through several crowds and to the far side of the party. She reached out with her other hand and waved with the apple to someone Faeorn couldn't see.

"Mummy!" she yelled, "I've brought you a lovely apple and a stranger!"

"What's that dear?" Despite the light from the bonfire, the woman's face was still cast in darkness as she came closer. Though it was impossible to see, Faeorn almost sensed her eyes falling upon him.

"Mister Faeo?" the voice now sounded more familiar. Surely it wasn't true.

"Carlotta Valentia?" Faeorn asked. He supposed he should have expected it. Whiterun wasn't a large city, and anyone who was anyone would attend the festival.

"Indeed." There she was, rubbing her little daughter on the head. As her face came into the firelight, Faeorn could see a pleasantly surprised expression written upon it. "I'm glad you were able to make it. You know, this festival has always held a place of pride, especially here."

Faeorn came closer, taking a place beside her while he turned towards the fire, "I can't begin to understand why, though I suppose the joy of crops makes sense."

Carlotta's expression remained unchanged. She started running her hands through Mia's hair, as the girl sank her teeth into the would-be gift, "It's not just the joy of crops. Out here, almost everything we eat comes from the earth beneath our feet or the beasts around us. We constantly, at all times, see a circle of life in all its stages…birth, life, and death. It is all a gift from the Divines. Without it we simply… would not be." Her voice slowed and dulled, uttering every word with softness, "This festival is our gratitude."

"Gratitude then." Faeorn answered, "Any reason is good enough to throw a party, at least my brother always said that. I don't necessarily agree with him, but he had at least half a point. Life without joy would be dull indeed, and gratitude is a fine reason for celebration."

"But you didn't come here for celebration."

Faeorn blinked, before nodding his head. Once again, she'd surprised him with her answer, "No…" he said, "You're right, I did not. In truth, my friend Borin recently enticed me come. We'd only been here a few days when… well you know. Anyways, I came to the North only recently, seeking work, adventure and…"

"Entertainment?" she asked, finishing the sentence as the word formed on his tongue. Faeorn turned. Their gazes met, but Carlotta's eyes looked saddened and weary. Slowly she looked away, "Tis a deadly combination. A word of caution, Mister Faeo. This land can be a very, very dangerous place."

"What do you mean?" he asked, faced only with the back of her head, "I get the sense that you've been trying to tell me something."

Carlotta looked down at her daughter, letting out a soft sigh, "Mia, why don't you run along? I'm sure you have no desire to hear adults pointlessly babble." Mia, having no concept of adult conversation, lolloped off without a second thought. Faeorn's curiosity was piqued. He couldn't begin to put his finger on this woman. One moment, she was pleasant and outgoing. In the next she was sullen and troubled. He needed to ask, no matter what outcome came of it.

"You also seem different." he continued in a straightforward way, only after a minute went by with anyone speaking, "This morning, you laughed and flopped leeks about while joking with me. Now you seem solemn and strangely concerned with my personal life. Now I'm no physician, but that doesn't seem completely right."

"I apologize if I seem impertinent." she answered, "You know, I was born in the Cyrodiil. My father was a merchant in Anvil, trading goods with all parts of the world. I know what it's like to come to this land for the first time, not knowing what to expect. If you're hasty, careless, or reckless, it will quickly destroy you. I've seen men meet their demise in more ways then I could ever count. Now you seemed like a nice gent. So I wanted to warn you, to leave before the fire hits the oil. Otherwise, you will most likely die in the chaos that follows."

"Do you mean the uprising?" Faeorn asked, "I thought it wasn't much of a problem. General Tullius will raise an army of volunteers and crush it."

"The fracture is deep and wide." Carlotta said, "Your friend Borin doesn't realize the puddle he's stepped in. Please believe me when I say that I've learned things, things that are known only by a few. Already the Jarls are taking sides. The following Civil War will not only tear apart this land, but have waves crashing far and wide. The Emperor will need strength. He'll need loyal citizens close at hand… citizens like I believe you are."

"But what makes you think I'm a _loyal_ citizen?" Faeorn asked, "And how do you even know what the Jarls are thinking? Ladies who sell vegetables in the market don't generally have access to that kind of information. So how can you expect me to abandon, on your word, everything I've come here to build?" She seemed so different now.. Honestly, Faeorn had no idea the conversation would turn out like this.

"Because I have no reason to lie to you. There is nothing for you here." There was a small rise in her voice, which stopped as she closed her eyes and touched her eyebrows, "I have said enough. I hope you heed my warning. Now I'm afraid there is nothing left to say, Mister Faeo. I would appreciate it if you distanced yourself as much as possible from my daughter and I. It is for your safety as much as ours."

"I don't understand." Faeorn concluded, "But honestly, I don't care at this point. Neither do I intend to probe you about any of this. The very fact that you seek to help me, a complete stranger, is enough to satisfy. I will respect your wishes and will leave you alone."

"Thank you Mister Faeo." Carlotta folded her hands together, a distant smile on her face, "I knew there was something about you when we met. Whatever you choose to do, know that you have the friendly concern of someone who has had to endure this place, and knows it well. With that I'll bid you goodnight and farewell. Gods keep you. This crisis is only going to get worse."

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Sorry for such a long wait. The last two months have been busy. Anyways, I hope this chapter helped to forward some of the plot and reveal some of Carlotta's character. Also, bringing typos to my attention is greatly appreciated.**


	7. And Now We All Happen to Be in Peril

**Chapter Seven: And Now We All Happen to Be in Peril**

* * *

Everything seemed to fall into a strange sense of normality after the extravagant event that was the Harvest Festival. As Carlota requested, Faeorn kept himself from speaking even another word to her. Though he could discern little from an occasional glance she threw his way, a strange sadness was all too evident in her dark, nut-brown eyes.

As for Borin, he started auxiliary training the next day, leaving Faeorn to his own solitary thoughts. The city quickly became more lonesome and tiring, pushing Faeorn's mind further and further away from its decaying old walls. After some deliberation, the Imperial made up his mind to look for jobs that would take him traveling. All he now wanted was to get out of this city, if only for a time

Lo and behold, he was soon approached by a lean, towering Redguard with an almost caramel pigment in his skin. Their meeting lasted a good two minutes before the man asked him to make a delivery to Falkreath, which in itself was a smaller city to the south. The pay was good, and Faeorn had traveled the route a few times since his arrival. However, there was one interesting, though rather odd stipulation that the towering Redguard firmly insisted on. Faeorn was required to wear a special set of steel boots with thin, almost wire laces. It was part of the "package," or so the Redguard told him.

Having a need for money however, Faeorn dumped caution for the jingle of gold coins. And so he left the city on the hill, the cold air of The North blowing through his thin, light clothing. Meanwhile, the boiling sun baked him from above, striking a deep contrast to the wind and air. Hiking down a wooded road that was flanked by a fast-flowing river on its right, Faeorn made good time. He briskly made it out of treeless plains and into the deliciously cool forests of Falkreath Hold, making quick time as he skipped down the path.

A large and square container was fastened solidly to his back, stuffed from wall to wall with blankets and other soft material that cushioned whatever was stuffed in the center. The wire-laced boots were heavy, but Faeorn managed well enough. As he went along, a slim, bald bloke leapt from seemingly nowhere to the center of the road

 _"Whoa!"_ Faeorn barked, jumping back just a step, "What in the _frig_ " He wasn't used to be so casually surprised. The man didn't seem to fazed by his reaction, "I'm sorry ser…so very sorry. I am but a humble soul, but if you'd be so kind, I'm in dire need of some help." The man put on a big, toothy grin, pointing off the road to some location beyond the trees, "My cart steered off the road good ser. I would greatly appreciate assistance."

Faeorn blinked, feeling recovered from the startle, "I don't know how you managed to lose your cart, chum… This road is perfect in almost every way."

"Twas quite strange actually, but these things do happen ser."

Faeorn rubbed his brow to avoid the incoming headache this man was inflicting. "Oh... alright then, let's go." He said, placing his hands on his hips.

The man nodded and smiled, leading him back through the trees a good ways. It was at least a minute of silence before they broke cover into an empty meadow. The man stopped and turned around, cold sweat spewing from his brow.

 _"Crapola…"_ Faeorn thought, placing his hand on his mace. Something was wrong, "Where's the cart?"

"Well I—" the man stopped and scratched his head, obviously stalling. "It was right here… honest!" Faeorn drew his mace at once, knowing he'd been duped. Most anyone would have turned in fled, but not Faeorn, "I think I'll head back to the road if there's no cart to move."

The man swallowed, avoiding eye contact. He just stood there, rubbing his thin, bean-like fingers together. Now, Faeorn would have beaten the ridiculous man right then and there, but for a flash of pain that exploded in the back of his head. Barely feeling the object that impacted his skull, he didn't even realize what happened before he had fallen over, his giant pack pushing him into the ground.

* * *

For the last week, the chapel of Dibella had been sealed off from the rest of the world. A double guard had been posted and even the priests were kept on the outside. As Giinthil tended her normal rounds, she couldn't help but think again and again about that terrible night. Oddly enough and despite the memory's intensity, she didn't remember much beside the foul smell of blood and magic, which somehow stayed fresh in her mind. It terrified her.

Captain Fabian only came to see her once. Despite her relative lack of knowledge, he ordered her to remain completely silent about what she'd seen, and threatened to strip her of her rank if she crossed him. Whatever happened in that chapel, he wanted to keep it nice and quiet and gone. Corvus seemed even more unnerved than she was. One night, Captain Fabian called him to his office, keeping him there for over an hour before they parted. For the nights since, her friend was strangely quiet, especially when they went on patrol or made their rounds. He seemed more distant and reserved.

As for the rest of the city, they rallied against what they perceived as an unjust lockdown on the church. During the day they'd gather in large crowds, protesting and demanding entrance. _"Surely"_ Giinthil thought, _"They won't keep it closed for much longer. The nobles won't allow it"_

It was a cold morning as she neared the chapel a week to the day of that terrible night. Having just started her rounds, she stopped when she heard a rush of feet behind her. Whirling around to face a possible attacker, she found herself not looking at some peasant or thug, but Corvus.

"Hey Giin." he said, a thoughtful but nervous expression on his face. He chuckled softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Despite the chuckle, he sounded unusually somber and serious.

"Oh it's fine." she reassured, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile without her truly knowing it, "What brings you out here?" She couldn't help but be glad to see him. She needed some friendly company after the last few days. Corvus straightened up, his hair looking a bit ruffled and messed up. He folded his hands behind his back, exhaling slowly

"Are you thinking about last week?"

"I am… well I was." Giinthil muttered in a bit of an undertone, "All I remember is that smell… that terrible smell, and blood everywhere. I find it hard think about anything else."

"I've felt it too." Corvus noted, falling in beside her as they continued the round, "The scent is almost compelled. I think it must have been magical." Despite an obvious attempt to look steady, Giinthil detected a faint shudder escape his lips. It comforted her to know that she wasn't alone in feeling terrified.

"Well... it was really kind of you to check up on me." She spoke in almost a babble, a small, delicate, but sweet twinkle in her eyes, "I've missed having someone to really talk with. Captain Fabian has been his usual forthcoming self."

"About him…" Corvus said, seeming to brush over the tenderness of her words almost intentionally, "I would like to speak with you Giin." She felt her heart begin to sink at his words. Apparently he only wanted her advice on something.

"Well I… _sure_." She said, her vexation more obvious than she wished. It blew over Corvus however, who merely nodded his head while gesturing off to his right with an almost forced smile. She moved closer to him, walking briskly in the freezing air. As they entered a smaller alley, she was forced to walk even closer, almost close enough to feel the warmth of his face radiating against her own. He must have just come outside, for he was beaming with warmth like a fresh log in the fire.

"So I do have a question." Corvus started, ignoring all of this. He stared thoughtfully into space, continuing down a seemingly pointless conversation, "How long does your kind live?"

"Bosmer? About as long as humans, for we don't have the blessings the Altmer or Dunmer possess. Our lives are considerably shorter."

"Well, tell me Giin." Corvus stopped, swinging around and standing in front of her, He gently grabbed her hands, speaking with his eyes closed and his head slightly bowed. She couldn't understand why he seemed so warm to her. Was she herself cold? At that moment, she could still feel his breath on her cheeks and eyebrows. It was the only feeling that managed to rival the bloody odor of the last week. In that way, it was unique.

"You and I both hate this life." Corvus continued, "And I know you want to live decently, respectably. What if I told you, we could both have a chance for that? We could both have a new life."

"Corvus…" Giinthil said, more out of thoughtfulness than as a reaction to his statement, "What's happened?"

"It is Captain Fabius. In his newfound desire to get rid of us, he's offered us both a reassignment… one that would put as much distance between us and the Chapel as possible."

"Well I'm sure he wants to get rid of us." Giinthil said, taking a step closer to her friend. His face was like a beacon, warming her with its unusually high supply of heat. She shivered a bit, her eyes falling to their unintentionally connected hands. Summer was definitely moving on, making way for the cold autumn she so despised. Corvus didn't seem to notice how close they were standing. His mind seemed distant, preoccupied.

"I'd certainly agree with you." he answered, "Nevertheless, in attempting to get rid of us because of what we saw at the chapel, he's giving us a chance at a new life. He's obtained for us both a transfer to a new Knight of the Imperial Dragon, to be finalized if we accept. His name is Captain Marcus Tyer, a decorated hero from Morrowind."

"But we would have to leave the Imperial City, and the giant mystery that is now the Chapel of Dibella."

Corvus slowly let go of her hands, nodding his head lightly. He took a step back, "Not necessarily. Should either of us accept, we'll have a least a few weeks without any duties before transfer… long enough to investigate—."

"Investigate? I didn't think you were considering—"

"Well of course I was!" Corvus chuckled, igniting a smile that complemented his face perfectly, "I'm not just going to forget what I saw, nor forsake the justice those murders must face. For some reason, Captain Fabian is stalling on this, and it's our duty to set it right. We could work on it together, find out what the Captain seems so reluctant to investigate."

"Well I… I think would like that." Giinthil affirmed. For the last few days she'd wanted to snoop around, "When would you like to start?

Corvus grasped her hand again, his thumb pressing against her palm, "We can begin right now."

* * *

Faeorn awoke with a throbbing pain that rocked his head like a sinking boat. Most of his senses were dulled and slowed. He moved his teeth a bit, feeling a shocking pain as they withdrew from what must have been his limp tongue. He shifted to his left with a groan, feeling distinct pain in his feet and hands. His drowsiness prevented him from opening his eyes; but he began to deduce bonds around him in several places.

"Hey… you awake? Don't pull at the bonds. They'll just get tighter on my end." He heard a man's voice coming from directly behind him. There was a slight impact as the backside of one head tapped against the back of his, triggering a small explosion of pain.

"Errrrg!" Faeorn groaned, his blue eyes snapping open as a spell of dizziness overtook him for a moment. He groaned pathetically and closed his eyes again.

"No, you really need to stay awake!" The voice insisted. Faeorn felt a small tug on his bonds, bringing him back for a moment. His teeth hurt, and his mouth was full of a stale taste that didn't normally associate with sleep.

"Stay awake." the voice ordered, giving Faeorn another pull at his bonds. It all sounded tired and desperate, not to mention strained and cranky.

"Uggh.. Ger-rahguah." Faeorn blabbered. He was having serious trouble thinking. His whole head ached like an overripe watermelon. The voice was no help, no help at all. Faeorn heard it ooze through his near unconsciousness, manifesting itself barely. _"Oh, damn it all… Just, listen to me, you corpse of a man. Those ruffians are going to kill us as soon as they finish cracking open that chest you brought. Do you hear me?! They. Will. Kill. Us. Does that even make any sense to you, or did they destroy what little brains you had?"_

There was a long sigh, followed by a muttering of curse words. Faeorn finally began to seriously wake up. He managed to open his eyes again, again feeling a spell of dizziness sweep him. His tongue was sore and swollen, but he finally managed to get a word out of his throat

"I uh… I'm uh uhwake…" It was fading now. The pain in the back of his head wasn't so strong. His location, through increased sight, smell, and touch, soon manifested itself, and was revealed to be a rather cold cave with a touch of pale light coming from somewhere.

"Good Gods _yes!"_ The man's voice caused a boom of ringing in his ear. Faeorn turned his head to the left in shock, feeling the bones of his stiff neck pop from the sudden usage. He realized that the man was bound to him, and they were back to back with a small pillar between them.

"Ugh… where are we?" Faeorn asked, his ears still ringing.

"We're in a cave a good distance into the forest. Apparently, these men have been waylaying couriers and travelers for months. And they said these roads were some of the safest. What a _load_ of horse crap."

"Horse crap indeed… _crapola_ even." Faeorn repeated, still feeling a bit dazed, "I assume you have some kind of plan for getting us out of here?"

"I do indeed, now that you've seen fit to join me."

"Well I hope you're plan's as good as your wit." Faeorn noted.

"Lay off the salt, Mr. Clever. We still have a prison to escape from."

"Mr. Clever eh… yes ser then!'" Faeorn sassed, "What's the first step in our epic escape?"

"We work as a team, with me as the obvious leader." the voice chided, "You'll have to trust me of course, but I've written enough about this sort of stuff to know what to do."

"Well what should we do then?"

"Well Mr. Clever… we start by examining our situation." Faeorn heard the rustling of movement, as his fellow captor seemed to test the bonds, "Well." He said, "We appear to be bound together, in case that wasn't immediately apparent, attached to a giant stake firmly pounded into the ground Now… based on my examinations. We should… we should…"

"You have no idea what we should do." Faeorn concluded, letting his own head fall. This was a stinking situation.

"Yes…" The voice admitted, "I have absolutely no idea what to do… and now you can toss a snide comment, Mr. Clever. It'll be of great comfort when those bandits slit our throats."

"They're not going to slit our throats." Faeorn comforted.

"And why not?"

"Because they save their axes for game. They would stove our heads in with butts of their axes."

"Well that's very comforting…"

"I wasn't the one who boasted of some _grand escape plan_."

"Well that one's on me…" the voice admitted, "But at least I'm _trying_ to find a way out of this."

"I'm also _trying_!" Faeorn insisted.

"Pfft… then what do we do?"

"We try to escape, of course!"

"But how?!" The voice stormed, sounding more desperate than ever. Faeorn wanted to slap his own head. He needed to think.

"Okay…" he said finally, "I got it… we pull the ropes along the pillar and use the friction to snap 'em"

"Oh of course!" The voice scoffed, "That idea is full of potential, Mr. Clever… but unfortunately, you forgot the fact that ropes are bound around us as well, and will tighten with each pull."

"Well then we… we—Wait a minute!" Faeorn interjected, "I have a much better idea." Pulling his feet in as far as possible, he undid the wire laces on them with the tips of his fingers, trying to pull them behind the rope.

"What are you doing?" the voice asked,

"Being clever…" Faeorn managed to tie the flexible wire together behind the rope. Though he was now extremely uncomfortable, any pain was masked in anticipation as he began moving his feet to and fro, running the wire along part of the rope.

"Oh… oh that's just, that is brilliant!" The voice shouted, "I can't exactly tell what you're doing… but I'm sure it's brilliant. Pungent though. I can smell it all the way over here. But it's excellent work Mr. Clever"

 _"Just another moment"_ "There was a loud snap as the wire wore away the last thread in the rope. They were free. Leaping up from his position and spinning around, Faeorn saw his fellow captor's face for the first time. The man had short sable hair and green eyes. He couldn't see him well in the dark light, but he quickly saw that the man was standing there shirtless and shoeless.

"Eh… they _really did_ rob you didn't they…" Faeorn noted, pulling the last of the ropes off of himself. The man shook his head with annoyance. "Your powers of observation amaze me, but if you don't mind, I intend to escape this place before any one of the two dozen bandits in this cave decide to check on us."

"And how are you going to make it past the guards. You won't exactly blend in."

"Well Mr. Clever, I happen to know that there's an underground stream that'll lead us out into the river. At least I hope it will." The man said, rubbing his hands together with a sniff, "Not a perfect idea; but I'd rather take my chances there than with the 20 or so bandits between us and the exit" By now, the man had pulled off the last of his ropes, and Faeorn heard the pitter patter of bare feet as he moved over to the far side of the cavern, motioning for him to follow. As he closed, Faeorn began to hear water rushing like a strong breeze.

"It's deep and fast flowing." The man informed, "Pretty much a one way trip."

"Ouch…" Faeorn felt his heart twinge. This didn't look like fun, but the only alternative was a cavern of armed guards.

"I'll go first." the man decided. He readied himself for a moment, then glanced back at Faeorn, "Give me a few moments to get a ways down the stream, then follow me" he leapt into the water with a slight wail, fluttering about and keeping his head up as long as possible before he was submerged under the cave wall.

"Oh… _crapola_ ," Faeorn muttered, inserting his own version of the famous curse. This was always the hardest part, jumping into the unknown with no idea of the consequences. With his fists clenched and eyes closed, he dove into the water with splash that felt like concrete. The air was punched from his lunges as he realized he'd hit the water wrong.

It was deep, deeper than he expected. As his head finally surfaced, a shout that would have softly boomed soft under water became as crisp as the snapping of branches. Another agonizing moment and he was sucked beneath water again, being flushed out of the cave before he could organize any of the input from his senses.

Water rushed past his face as he flew downriver. The air in his lungs quickly stagnated as he suffered prolonged suffocation. For a moment, a single, everlasting moment, he felt a petrifying fear seize him. He was trapped… with no light, no air, and hardly any hope of escape. This river could go on for miles, and he'd be dead long before he reached the end of it. The moment endured, and his heart throbbed with the lack of oxygen. Finally, in a single, glorious happening, he broke surface, and saw the sun with his eyes.

He was still moving downriver, but with light, breath, and a heavenly noise of wildlife that ruptured a feeling of intense gratitude and relief. He had little trouble in maneuvering to shore, feeling more thankful for his own pathetic life than he'd been in a very long time. He crawled out of the water, kissing the pale, cold sand. There was a loud thump as someone flopped down beside him.

"Wow…" It was his fellow captive, who was now shaking his head with an overwhelmingly staggered smile performed by his baked mouth. "Well we did it, Mr. Clever." Faeorn could see him clearly now. He had short sable hair and green eyes. The skin around his nose and eyes was wet and peeling. Still feeling his own amazement at their survival, Faeorn chuckled.

"Wow indeed…" He laughed, "I've not done something like that in years."

"So you've done _that_ before?"

"Not quite that, but something similar. It's all _crapola_ though"

"Do you mean crap?" The green-eyed man asked.

"No." Faeorn responded, "I mean _crapola_ … there's a big difference."

"What kin-?"

Faeorn blew a raspberry, falling flat on his back, "If you have to ask…"

"Well we really should be moving." The man suggested with an interruption. He rubbed his already peeling face, "It would be hardly rewarding if we escaped just to be run through when they catch us again. I suppose we should also tell the Jarl. That would be the responsible thing to do."

Faeorn closed his eyes, all his muscles now tightening. He had actually survived. The resolution made him feel giddy all over, "I dunno. Wanna go get an ale first? I could really use one."

"What I… really?!" the man blasted in hilariously weak surge of annoyance, "So you go from Mr. Clever to Mr. Casual then. We just escaped certain death and you want to go get an ale?"

"Yes, an ale…"

"What?! Well I think I… I think I'll…" the man looked too exasperated for words. He slapped his forehead and flopped down on the cold sand beside him, now beginning to be warmed by the hot sun, "Well I think I'd like that ale."

"We can get two." Faeorn nodded, "Honeyside is few miles from here. Not sure about the innkeeper though. He doesn't really appreciate my unique set of skills."

"I'm sure he's just ungrateful."

"Yeah, that's what I thought…" Faeorn responded, "Still… he has the ale."

"Of course he does." Brekr said, looking more than a little lightheaded. Well I see what you mean in any case. He's one of those 'make every tomorrow different than today' sort of people."

"Well by definition… tomorrow is rather different from today." It was unbearably stupid; but after escaping certain death, his tongue was just a little bit loose.

Brekr chuckled while rubbing his forehead, " _Divines_ preserve us! I can't believe we're still laying here. We'll be dead if we don't get moving. One thing's for certain though, I'm sure I'd have never made it out without your help."

"Please." Faeorn laughed, extending his hand without actually moving his body, "Faeorn Palidor… your most humble servant."

"Brekr Haith… yours. Now let's get out of here." He grasped the hand offered, shaking it with hardly any energy.

"Goodness." Faeorn groaned, crinkling his nose with disgust, "Your hand is literally like a dead fish…"

* * *

 _"Kayte!"_ The voice howled through the building with a shrillness that was only matched by its authoritative dominance. Bearing a bucket and mop, Kayte burst from a small doorway to the basement, her blonde hair and light face coated in soot and dirt. Miss Fauntia burst from upstairs, sailing down the staircase with a scowl that would rebuke the unruliest of schoolboys.

"Good gracious!" She shouted, for the fourth time that week surprised by Kayte's appearance, "What on earth happened to you?"

"I was uh… cleaning out the cellar ma'am… as you requested." Kayte was almost fed up with this respectful banter. She wanted to shout again, speak freely and curse up and down the street.

"I mean… you-your _face_." Fauntia observed, shaking her head with widening eyes, "You're like a raccoon for goodness' sake. Go and clean up immediately. And I _better_ not find soot on the bed again."

"Yes ma'am." Kayte had learned to respond promptly and simply. Over the last week, she'd only been given access to a small portion of the house. Despite this limitation however, she had seen a vault, somehow sensing what she wanted would be within. After all she went through for this, the Thieves Guild wouldn't dream of refusing her. They'd surely welcome her with open arms.

 _"Open arms"_ Kayte made her way back to her room on the thought, and from there to the washstand in the adjacent bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she could now see her resemblance to the raccoon. Hilariously, her face was coated in dust and soot, settling mainly beneath her eyes and on her cheeks, thus forming the raccoon-like appearance.

 _"Gaah…"_ she groaned, taking some water in her hands and dousing her face. The soot quickly washed off into the basin, leaving her face wet but relatively clean. Pushing hair back with a sniff, Kayte could, for the first time in a long while, view her reflection. She saw only a small, dirty young woman. Though she had beauty in her slight features, hazel eyes, blonde hair and light skin, she looked thin and weak. Truly, the slums hadn't been kind to her. At least here she could get enough food to get by.

"Kayte _,_ would you answer the door for me?" It was Fauntia again. Her voice sounded throughout the house a second time, but at louder volume, " _Kayte,_ would you get the door?!"

"Yes ma'am…" Kayte sighed and groaned, hobbling over to the door with sore feet and aching muscles. She opened it with a huff, feeling a knot in her throat from a swift adrenaline rush. No sound or greeting came from her throat.

There was a hard moment of silence, and the man blinked when Kayte didn't say anything. He had a sharp face with a long scar on the cheek. His voice rang clear and dominant when he spoke.

"Is this the home of Lady Roccina?"

Kayte tried again, emitting a wheezy noise, " _Yes Ser…"_

The man blinked, not fazed by what must have been a pitiful display, "Then tell Lady Roccina girl, that Commander Tyer is here to speak with her." He stepped into the room without another word, sitting himself down on a chair like he owned the place. Kayte roved towards the staircase, pulling herself up it and towards the master bedroom room.

 _"C-twunk."_ Her hand bounced off the door with a thump. Fauntia opened it immediately, glowering at the girl in front of her.

"Well?!" she barked, "What is it?"

"Commander Tyer to see her ladyship…" Kayte started. There was a quick rustle as Lady Roccina came up and moved between her and Fauntia.

"Send him quickly." She said, a lively agitation of anxiety evident in her frightened eyes. She shook her head while uncharacteristically biting her nail, _"Quickly!"_ she repeated with a hiss, pulling away from the door with a loud and tearful sigh. Fauntia pushed out the door and past Kayte, sailing down the staircase to meet Commander Tyer at its base.

"Commander Tyer." She spoke with a genuine coldness that Kayte instantly recognized, "Or should I say Ser Marcus Tyer… as you have obtained that honor."

"Commander is adequate." The man informed, "It's been a long time, and certainly a long road. I must apologize that I did not come sooner. Situations kept me otherwise… engaged. Please, I would be honored to speak with my old _friend._ "

"I'm not sure her ladyship would agree with your usage of the word. But she is willing to speak with you."

The commander nodded, ascending the staircase with his hand on the railing, "Her ladyship has my thanks." He entered the doorway to Lady Roccina's study, closing it behind him. Fauntia shook her head and sighed, ascending the staircase after the man and leaving Kayte alone. For several minutes, Kayte had to content herself with skulking about the living room, gazing at the tapestries and heraldic paintings. Suddenly, the scarred man came out of the room, descending the stairs with a smile on his face. He turned to Kayte cheerfully as he left, _"Good day."_

Something about his voice sent a chill down her spine. He let himself out with the same dastardly smile, disappearing behind the door just as Lady Roccina descended the stairs.

"Kayte." She panted, dozens of tears shimmering on her cheeks, "I and Fauntia are _leaving_ immediately _._ _Immediately you hear!_ I'm sorry to end this so soon. I know I said I would give you a trial, but everything's just changed so much and so quickly. Here, take this as your pay and please accept my apologies" She extended a sizable coin purse in her hand, forcing a hollow smile as she tried to give it. Kayte merely blinked, not knowing what to say. In the space of ten minutes, her dreams of stealing something immensely valuable had been ground into paste. Now she was left with this hollow, empty reminder that she had completely failed. A whole week had amounted to nothing.

"Unless of course, you didn't mind leaving the Imperial City." Fauntia suddenly appeared from the side room, freely placing her hands on Lady Roccina's shoulder. She had a reflectively insightful look on her face. She could sense Kayte's desperation, "I know you came from the Waterfront Kayte, and I know that _no one_ would want to live there. So if her ladyship didn't mind, perhaps you could come with us."

"Well… I—I _would, but where would be going?_ Kayte burst out. She wasn't going to let this deal go, not after she'd put so much into it.

"High Rock." Lady Roccina smiled, looking very much touched by the idea, "If that's that, then let's ready ourselves quickly. We must leave within the hour."

So the three of them made ready to leave, gathering what belongings they could carry with them. Outside eanwhile, distancing himself a good distance from the house, Commander Marcus Tyer mounted his carriage, leaning back and relaxing for a moment-a very short moment. For the carriage door soon opened as a slithery Argonian jumped on, " I have returned Commander!"

"Neeraz." The commander sighed with annoyance. He pulled out a signet ring from a small pouch and stroked it, scowling to himself, "I hate people who don't appreciate the silence of a moment."

"Ugh… my apologies Commander."

Tyer rolled his eyes, "Never mind it. Has anything interesting happened?"

"Well commander, the city wants to compliment us with two of their guards."

"Sincerely?" Tyer asked, closing his eyes for a moment, "The City Guard? Well I suppose that we do seem to live in interesting times."

"A little too interesting." The Argonian added.

"Indeed… well in any event. I suspect Lady Roccina will soon be returning to High Rock."

"Did you threaten her?"

"I didn't need to…" Tyer shook his head, placing the ring back in the pouch "I simply told her the truth. She must have already known…"

"So she must have. In any event I understand. What do we do now ser?"

"We continue as planned." Tyer resolved, "The fate of our Empire lies in the balance. We have to move soon. before our enemies are on the march.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So yeah… I took a liberty with the Bosmer age. I think I like it better that way, since they're seen as the lowliest and the most unenlightened of the elves. Any thoughts on that are welcome. Again, I can never stress how much I appreciate typo checks.**


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